


Tonight I can write the saddest lines

by Oxford99



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, The Constant Princess - Philippa Gregory, The Spanish Princess (TV), The Tudors (TV), The White Princess (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gen, Mildly Dubious Consent, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oxford99/pseuds/Oxford99
Summary: After a cruel death, Catherine of Aragon and Castile wakes up to the first night with Arthur. Armed with the knowledge of how the future unfolds and believing this is God's gift what will Catherine do? Still desperately in love with a man she knows to be capable of great cruelty, will she choose Arthur or Harry? What is her destiny?





	1. Prologue: Where the Princesse's plans bite the dust

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is based on the Spanish Princesses' version of history, which is an Alternate Universe obvs otherwise Harry would be 10 years old and not 16th century sexting his future sister in law. And Rosa wouldn't be such an idiot.  
> As such, HUGE liberties have been taken with all the characters, but unlike Philippa Gregory I'm not getting any money for my widely inaccurate writings.

Catherine had thought that she had understood God’s plan.

She thought she understood her purpose.

Now, standing in front of Harry- no, Henry, King Henry the 8th‘s messenger, she blinked, wondering if it was appropriate to laugh or cry.

Certainly, Henry would expect her to be delighted. He had broken with Rome for the chance to marry her after all. His brother’s widow. If papal dispensation would not be provided- if the Pope would not allow Henry to marry her, well then, a new church with the King as its head would!

Margert of Beaufort was turning in her grave. For all the storm that was swerving around her now, that thought gave Catherine comfort.

 _All that planning_ , she thought, stifling the urge to laugh hysterically, _all that effort, all to keep England to the true faith! And see what has happened!_

Thomas More was dead. Many more would follow as Henry tore through the Church. And all the while, Catherine could do nothing. Not if she wanted her darling Mary to remain safe. Henry loved the girl, Catherine knew, but she also knew that Mary was first and foremost a pawn. If Catherine went against him, if she spurned him, well then, Mary was a little hostage to ensure that Catherine couldn’t go an inch past where Henry wanted her to.

 _Is this what Anne Boleyn felt? As if the world was caving down on her?_ Catherine wondered, moving slowly to the window as the messenger waited for her response. O _r did she encourage Harry from the start?_

“Highness?” The messenger’s voice was quiet but resounded in Catherine’s ears. “What response shall I give his Royal Highness?”

 _Tell him I think Harry is a usurper_ Catherine wanted to snap. _Tell him I hate him as much as I love him. Tell him I want to banish him to the ends of the Earth. Tell him I need him so badly I can barely breathe. Tell him I’m pregnant. Tell him It’s his._

“Tell his Royal Highness I am at his pleasure.” Catherine’s reply was measured, and only Lina could hear the strain underneath it. “If he wishes me to travel to Court, I will make preparations immediately”

 _Oh Arthur, Arthur why were you such a fool? So busy in your books that you did not see your younger brother win the love of the nobles and the commoners alike. And now you are gone, and I am the whore I never was in my first life._ _For all that Harry tried, he never stripped me of my self-respect. In this life, I gave it away. Thinking I understood everything, I didn’t even realize when I fell into his trap._

Catherine took a breath, exhaling slowly as she turned from the window and stepped towards her bedroom. Lina hurried ahead of her, getting ready to pack their belongings. It was unlikely they would be back.

_Why was I such a fool? Why did I betray you? And why, why is there a part of me that revels in this?_

It was the kiss that had damned her again. In her first life Harry’s kiss – slow, passionate, and drugging, had changed her mind.

Catherine had thought in this new life – this wonderful second chance, that she would be immune to his charms. It only took one kiss to realize that no matter what life it was, no matter her foreknowledge, Catherine would always be weak to Harry.

Like her past life, the kiss sealed her fate. _And so the dance begins again_ Catherine thought wearily.

_Harry, shall you and I dance to Hell this time around? Or is Heaven still within reach? But no matter what happens, now that we are here, I **will** be your only wife!_

 


	2. I had a dream that I was awake and I woke up to find myself asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine wakes up. Shockingly Arthur is still alive. Harry is still super attractive. Damn, what's a queen with a second chance to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Princess isn't mine. This fiction is based off the show, which is based off Philippa Gregory's book, which has a very vague relation to the real lives of these dead people from 500 years ago. In other words, the Spanish Princess is as far from reality as Pluto is from Mercury. This fiction is Alpha Centauri. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S: the title is a quote from Stan Laurel

Catherine wakes to the singing of the birds. She blinks, disoriented as she acclimates herself to the surroundings. Her last moments flash through her mind: the failing breath, Line weeping by her side, and Catherine waiting and waiting for Harry to come. Her very last memory is of footfalls outside the door, and the conviction that her husband has finally come.

  
_Fool._   Catherine thinks savagely to herself, tears falling as she jams her head into the pillow to stifle them. _How pathetic to wait for a man who discarded you like so much rubbish._

  
Oh, but her heart is foolish. Catherine loves Harry like a sailor loves a siren. Desperately, madly, and with no hint of self-preservation.

  
_He was cruel, but I lied to him first._ She thinks grimly. _It is only just that God punished me. But why did he look to hurt Mary as well?_

  
“We did nothing that would prompt you to tears.” The voice causes Catherine to violently shoot up. A dead man stares at her, brows furrowed.

  
“Arthur” Catherine breaths out, voice hitching, trying to understand what it is that she is seeing.

  
“You speak in Spanish when you are sleeping.” He continues, nodding at her and moving towards the window. “I must learn the language so I can understand your secrets.”

  
Her silence causes her to turn around and frown at her. Catherine forces herself to nod, trying to remember what she had told him so long ago.

  
“A pity.” She finally replies. “I was hoping to dream in English.”

  
Arthur squints at her. Catherine had forgotten how unattractive that makes him look. Finally, he nods, dismissing her reactions.

  
“My father is preparing the Festival of Gaunt.” Moving to the foot of the bed, Arthur picks up a shirt, sliding it over effortlessly. “You will need to dance.”

  
“I can teach you the pavane” Catherine replies, remembering the conversation fully now.

  
“English dances.” Arthur’s smile could be a grimace, and Catherine cannot help but frown in response.

  
The knocking of the door interrupts the moment, and Catherine shrinks into the bedsheets as Arthur moves to respond. Throwing herself down on the bed, she takes a few breaths, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

  
I _am dead and this is purgatory Catherine thinks,_ then shakes her head. _No, don’t be stupid, purgatory would be watching Henry flounce around with that whore._

  
_No, that would be hell._

  
A fever dream? A hallucination from poison?

  
_Could this be God giving me another chance?_

  
The last option is the most appealing. Catherine knows what the future holds. She can simply sidestep all the mistakes she made the last time and live her life fully. As England’s rightful queen. By the side of a man who is too much of a boy to betray her.

  
Nodding, Catherine resolves to think of this situation as a second lease on life, given to her by the merciful Almighty. If this is a fever dream, then she prays it never ends. If this is a hallucination, then she prays she never wakes up.

  
Catherine cannot go back to being an unwanted wife.

  
She cannot go back to being a barren mockery.

 

 

 

\---------------- 

 

Arthur loves his brother, but it has been a very long time since he has liked Harry.

  
Despite what Aunt Maggie says, Arthur knows that Harry isn’t jealous of him. Harry gets to enjoy life, fooling around, while Arthur must slog and strive and continue to try, and never, in the eyes of the people around him, measure up to his charismatic, passionate younger brother.

  
Even his wife prefers Harry, and she has never met him before.

  
“Run along, little brother.” Arthur tries to impersonate the imperial tones of their grandmother but feels he sounds more petulant than not.

  
“I just want to make sure she wasn’t too much for you.” Harry’s response is glib, but his brother’s eyes are sharp, moving over Arthur for any tell-tale signs of a night well spent.

  
He won’t find them, Arthur knows. He had shied away like a milkmaid last night.

  
And Arthur knows it will happen again. Catherine is like a flame. Beautiful to look at, but Arthur fears the burn. Every time he thinks of touching her, he remembers the letters.

 

Catherine had burned them, but not before Arthur’s boy had bought them to him. Reading them once before returning them was enough. He cannot forget the words.

  
_I will care for you, love you and protect you. I will cherish you till my last breath._

  
_I will hold you in my arms, where we shall find the ecstasy that the Lord promises in a faithful, fruitful union._

  
_Catherine, I want to kiss you…your lips, your neck, the soft hollow where your dress meets flesh…_

  
Harry never had any issues sounding scholarly and soft.

  
“What was it that Socrates said?” Arthur muses, trying desperately to drive the letters from his mind. “Once a man tames a wild horse, the rest of his life shall be easy.” He hears rustling, and see’s Harry’s eyes flicker to the right. Without turning, Arthur knows Catherine is at the door, listening.

  
“And did you tame your Iberian thoroughbred?” Harry’s voice is measured, laughter and scorn threaded together underneath. His gaze is hungry, boring past Arthur.

  
Stepping closer, he forces his younger brother and his friends to look at him.

  
“Gentlemen,” Arthur pauses, “Last night I was in Spain.”

  
Laughter erupts around him, but disappointment flashes through Harry’s face before he smiles.

  
“Hurry up.” Catherine’s voice interrupts the moment. She steps through the doorway, and Arthur turns, appraising his wife. Her body is covered by the dressing gown, but the hair remains loose, tumbling in glorious waves. Behind him, Arthur hears Harry inhale slowly, and knows his little brother’s eyes are running over Catherine’s form. For her part, Catherine remains still, eyes fixated on Harry, an imperial tilt to her chin. She is waiting for his brother to be shamed, Arthur knows and longs to tell his wife that Harry has never made acquaintance with shame. She might as well ask Harry to join the church.

  
“Lina, stoke the flames.” Catherine is cool and cutting, eyes dismissing his brother as she turns around. “The fire burned too brightly.” Here, she looks at Arthur and Harry, smiling curtly, “There was much to burn.”

  
Harry’s smile slips for a moment before it fixes onto his face again. Arthur looks between his wife and brother, foreboding slipping into his heart.

  
He shuts the door on his brother’s laughing face and wishes he could silence his doubts so easily.

 

 

\-------------

 

 

The room is suffocating, Catherine thinks, breathing deeply and trying to calm her nerves. The dancing, the music, the chatter. She feels boxed in, and the tightness of her dress isn’t helping.

  
Catherine can feel Harry’s gaze on her, ever fixed and shameless for it. She can feel the flush moving down her body, starting from the cheeks to the neck and then falling further.

  
Catherine hates this. The fact that his mere observation can rouse her so.

  
Arthur moves towards her, holding out a hand as the music changes. Catherine smiles steadily, rising and placing her fingers in his.

  
_At least this time I know the dance_ She thinks grimly.

  
The steps are easy to remember. Catherine has danced this dance many times. When things were good, she and Henry’s court used to be the toast of Christendom. The gallivant was featured many times.

  
_When Boleyn came to the court it changed._ She remembers. _Lavolta became more popular. Shameless I always thought. Yet Harry loved it so. If I had danced it with him, Boleyn would never have met him in the first place. Or perhaps I am saying that to myself to feel better. She was a symptom, not the cause. I know that now. I lost him the moment I lied._

 

  
From the corner of her eye, Maggie Pole’s form hurries out the hall. Catherine bows to Arthur, abruptly fleeing the dance. Maggie Pole has been her friend, and she misses her comforting presence. She can make amends here, as she did in her previous life, and do better by her friend.

  
“Lady Pole.” Catherine cries, hurrying behind the woman. “Lady Pole, I ask for a moment of your time.”

  
Maggie Pole turns, lips trembling. Even her anger has shades of sorrow.

  
“What is it?”

 

Catherine kneels on the ground, head bowed. “I beg forgiveness for what was done in my name. I did not know of it, nor did I conceive that such a thing was asked.”

  
_I always thought the ignoble things done by Madre caused my marriage to falter._ She thinks. _Spilling blood for power results in sorrow upon sorrow. Oh Madre, if only you had foreseen what your request would result in! You sowed the wind, yet I had to reap the whirlwind._

  
“I do not wish to speak of it.” Maggie’s voice is shaky. “For me, the grief is too new.”

  
“I understand.” Catherine bows again, keeping her head low. “But I wish you to know that I will always endeavor to be your friend, to make up for what my family did. In me, you shall find support and advocacy, and I will never falter from aiding you if I can.”

  
“Get up,” Maggie says after a moment has passed. “Go back to the hall, Princess. It ill befits a Spanish royal to kneel before her inferior.”

  
Catherine rises, stepping towards Maggie and grasping her hand. “You are not my inferior.” She says passionately. “I swear by the Lord that I know that you are a good, honest woman. A rarity in this court of vipers.”

  
“Please go.”

  
Catherine bows, moving back to the hall. Behind her, Maggie Pole pauses for a moment, conflicted about the encounter, before walking away.

 

In the hall, Catherine sees Arthur and Harry playfully tussling as they dance. Harry laughs, and for a moment Catherine is enraptured. It had been so long since she had seen him so giddy, so boyish. For too long his smiles had withered, disappointment weighing his face.

  
Catherine has missed his smiles.

  
So busy in her thoughts, she misses when Harry spots her, laughing as he moves towards her. Exhaling sharply as he picks her up, Catherine stifles a shriek, her hands landing on Harry’s shoulders as he lifts her up and twirls.

  
She cannot help her ragged breaths as he puts her down. Harry proximity is intoxicating.

  
_I underestimated the effect he has on me. Only a touch and I am feeling faint!_

  
Harry’s eyes are dilated as he looks at his, desire eclipsing his irises. Its been so long since Catherine was the recipient of his raw hunger. She cannot help but part her lips, wanting so badly to kiss him.

  
_Stop it! Remember Boleyn. Remember how he humiliated you over seven years! Remember that you never saw your daughter before your death? Is that worth nothing you harlot? Hold fast!_ Her mind shrieks as Catherine blinks, wrestling her desires under control.

  
Giving Harry a curt nod, she turns, walking towards Arthur. Harry follows, stepping closer.

  
“Leave her alone brother, you are drunk.” Arthur steps in, pushing Harry lightly. He stumbles, falling to the floor and laughing ruefully.

  
Catherine turns, instinctively moving towards him. Her mistake is interrupted by the arrival of the Scots. This time around, Catherine speaks nothing to him. Her humiliation at her mistaken assumptions, and the scene she had created that first time around, burns her still.

  
_Speak nothing and observe. Note what is different and what is not. Win, win, WIN._

  
Catherine says nothing as Harry stands up, pouting at Arthur. She replies to his wide grin with a polite smile and hurries out of the hall.

 

 

\-----------

 

  
“You really need to stop looking at your sister in law like that.” Charlie smiles, taking away the sting of his words.

  
“My sister in law needs to stop looking as she does then.” Harry parries, walking down the hall. Charlie falls behind him, matching his pace.

  
“I spoke to the pretty dark maid today.” He reveals. “Broke her pretty heart by telling her she would have little say in who she married.”

  
“The burden of nobility,” Harry replies. “We have no choice in who we pledge our troth.”

  
“Well, you may have some choice, Harry. Your grandmother dotes on you. If you name a girl, then she will be yours.”

  
“Then I name Catherine,” Harry says, words coming out grittily. “Tell me, Charlie, shall Grandmother procure her for me?”

 

“Harry.” Charlie touches his arm, forcing them both to a stop. “I know you grew fond of her as you wrote to each other –“

  
“Fond of her?” Harry’s voice is incredulous. “Fond of her? Don’t dismiss my feelings as nothing! You think because I’m infatuated often with the flesh that I know nothing of the spirit? That women’s mind is a trap, she can fight, and she argues better than half the council! She is avid and knowledgeable about so many things, Charles! Fighting, strategy, governance, geography, languages! Her confidence, her composure, her passion…it’s all wasted on Arthur!”

  
“Wasted or not, she is _his_ wife Harry.” Charlie is gentle in his rebuke, but the words bite the same.

  
“I courted her,” Harry replies, moving again. “I wrote to her. She shared her fears with me. She was intimate with me. I know her mind and I am the recipient of her passion. Arthur knows nothing of her.  And yet she is in his bed and I must content myself with insipid nobility?”

  
“God has a plan for you, my Lord,” Charlie says. “I know it seems unfair now, but I know he has something in mind for you.”

  
_God wants me to be King._ Harry doesn’t’ say. _I know this as I know anything else. Arthur is too much a flower petal to be a King of England._

  
To some extent, even Catherine knows it. When they had touched, electricity had coursed through Harry’s body. Catherine’s face had flushed, her lips had parted, and her irises had dilated. She desires him, Harry knows that.

  
He still remembers her shocked inhale at the revelation that Harry had been the one to write to her, not his meek and mild brother. The look on her face had excited him greatly. Right then and there Harry had wanted to tear the veil that cloaked her and take her lips.

  
As he had promised so many times in his letters.

 

As she had desired so many times in hers.

  
_*I want to kiss your neck…*_

  
_You will._ Harry promises himself. _I will have you, and I will possess you._

 

_I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I **will** be King of England._

  
_And you, Catherine, will be **mine**._

 

_\----------------_

  
Ludlow Castle is as damp as Catherine remembers, and the English weather does not help. Still, she is happy to be away from Harry and the court. Her awareness of him has not diminished, and she hates that she can instantly tell when he enters or leaves a room.

  
_Drive away this desire._ Catherine prays. _Let me be free of Harry!_

  
The first thing Catherine must do is ensure that Arthur does not die of the sweat. If he does not die, Harry will not be King. There will be no trail of dead babies and miscarriages, and no break from the true faith. Catherine will be Queen over a glorified England and Harry will be nothing but the King’s brother!

  
She needs Oviedo. Lina had told her in the first life how Oviedo had saved her. The Moors have a greater understanding of medicine and sciences, Catherine knows that now.

Often in her first life, she had dismissed Oviedo’s advice not to fast, not to pray on her knees in the damp chapel, to eat more. She knows better now. His people have knowledge from the Greeks and the Romans, from the Indians, and the Chinese. In this life, Catherine will listen and learn. She will take better care of herself, and she will prove that she is not barren.

  
But no. Even if she wants to save Arthur, the smart thing is to wait until the time of the sweating sickness has passed. Once Arthur is sure to live, Catherine will consummate the marriage. Maggie Pole is here with them, along with her husband. Surely Catherine can ask Maggie how to arouse Arthur’s passions?

  
If he dies still, Catherine will swear, truthfully this time, that she is a virgin, and leave England.

  
Better to be passed around Europe as a collection plate, than languish, unwanted and unneeded as her husband humiliates her at every turn.

  
 “Ludlow Castle.” Arthur’s voice breaks into her thoughts, and Catherine rouses herself, smiling at him unsurely. “We will learn how to govern from here and you can better acquaint yourself with English customs.”

 

“Like bathing once a week.” Richard Pole grumbles from the other side.

 

“I think that is one custom I shall not adopt,” Catherine replies politely. “Being clean is an important thing, My Lord. In Spain, we bathe once a day, and the sicknesses that plague the rest of Europe are often kept away.”

  
“I apologize for my words, Highness.” Pole’s voice is curt. “But it takes time and effort to give you the baths you like, and our servants are needed for other things.”

  
“Which is why my ladies will oversee my bath and general comfort. You need not bother much of your household, my Lord. They know what I like and what I dislike.”

  
_And this way, Margaret Beaufort’s spies will not enter my home._

\--------------

  
Arthur is as sweet and awkward as Catherine remembers. This time around, she isn’t trying to actively seduce him, so they fall into an easy friendship. It is disheartening, however, to be so clearly not wanted. Harry had –

  
_Oh, enough_ Catherine grumbles to herself _Stop remembering him so favorably. Harry is not that man, no more than I am that insipid woman!_

  
“I wrote a poem for you,” Arthur announces as they walk through the gardens. He hands her a note and she smiles, reading through the poetry.

  
“It’s very fine Arthur.”

  
The smile falls from his face.

  
“But not as fine as others can achieve.”

  
“Others have not achieved my hand,” Catherine replies fiercely. She touches the side of his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. “You are a good man, Arthur. I know you do not feel it –“

  
“Harry is stronger. He jousts and fights better than I do. He also writes more proficiently. ” He interrupts her, walking ahead. Catherine hurries behind. “Father does not like his verses, but that is of little matter. Mother likes them, Grandmother likes them, and I know they are sung in taverns. The people like him more.”

  
“Because he is a second son. The firstborn must always be more decorous. You have been raised to be a King. Harry has been raised to be nothing.”

  
“That’s harsh.” Arthur says surprised.

  
“But true.”

  
“Grandmother thinks God has great plans for Harry.”

  
_Of course, she does._ Catherine thinks grimly. _She has a touch of foresight. Bitter old harridan._

  
The moment is broken by Lina’s moan. Catherine hurries towards her maid as she collapses. Maggie and Richard run towards them, and Catherine knows the time of her trail has come.

  
The sweat is here.

\----------

  
“The sweat?” Harry has rarely heard his father’s voice be so fearful. As a child, he had thought his father to be a towering behemoth. Time and his own intelligence have revealed that thought for the lie it is. King Henry the VII is a relic of a bygone era, a hollow titan tottering on its last legs. Arthur is much the same, molded into an identical shape as their father.

 

England deserves better.

  
“His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales has fallen ill with the sweat.” The messenger confirms. “The Spanish Princess is healthy and nurses him daily.”

  
“Tell her to get away from him, for Heaven’s sake.” Margaret orders. “What a thing to tell the Spanish. Five months in the country and the Princess dies from the sweat!”

  
“She is healthy, My Lady, and insists she will not leave his side. And she has her Moorish bowman helping her tend to Prince.”

 

“Preposterous!  A bowman tending over a Prince? Send the King’s physician to watch over Arthur.”

  
“I will go as well.” Harry’s announcement shocks the room.

  
“You can’t.” Elizabeth of York replies, pacing up and down the room. “With Arthur sick, you are the presumptive heir. Your father and I will go.”

  
“Lady Mother.” Harry steps towards her, holding her hands gently. “You are in a delicate condition and Father is the King. My sisters are too young and vulnerable. I am healthy and strong and will be of aid to my brother in his time of need. The people need to see that the sweat does not harm the Tudors. We need to show them that this is not God’s judgment upon our reign.”

  
Harry has been in areas with the sweating sickness before. It has never touched him. He is hale and hearty and every inch the strong Tudor their people need to see.

  
“Harry is right,” Margaret says wearily, sinking into her chair. “I do not like it, but he speaks the truth. Harry will go, but slowly. Let us hope the sickness has passed by the time he gets there.”

  
Harry looks at his grandmother, eyes meeting as one thought races through their minds.

  
_Will Arthur live?_

\-------

 

He does. By the time Harry and the physician have reached Ludlow his brother has recovered. He is weak- when is he ever not? But he is alive.

 

Harry stifles the flash of disappointment and smiles at his brother. By Arthur’s side, Catherine lies, disheveled and unapologetic about it.

  
She has never looked lovelier.

  
“Our parent’s will be relieved,” Harry announces, walking towards the bed, sitting by the chair next to it. The move puts him by Catherine’s side, and her shift lets him know that she is very aware of their proximity.

  
“The whole country will rejoice.” Harry continues, putting a hand on his brother’s cold one. “It is a blessing that the sweat did not take you from us.”

  
“God’s plans are unknown,” Arthur replies. “I am blessed that I survived. So many did not.”

  
“It is not for King’s to worry about lesser men,” Harry says gently. “You must focus on your recovery before tending to others. What use is it to diminish yourself?”

  
“Harry is right,” Catherine says, surprise in her voice. Harry stifles a smile- how she underestimates him! “You must focus on strengthening yourself Arthur. The illness took much from you and you are in no condition to go out. I will –.”

  
“In the meantime, I will address the people and tend to their needs.” Harry interjects, making sure he puts the proposal of being in front of the people. 

  
“I will accompany you –“Catherine’s voice is urgent as she understands his plan. Harry turns to her raising, a brow. They both know that it is impossible for Arthur to address the people. Yet, at the same time, now that Harry is here, a royal presence can be used to sooth the raw wounds the sweat has left. At the same time, those wounds will not be assuaged by the crown prince, but by his brother.

  
Harry is no fool. Either way, this is a win for him. By the glare Catherine shoots him, she knows it as well.

  
“Catherine can go with you.” Arthur affirms.

  
Harry smiles and shrugs. A woman, especially a foreign woman, very newly wed, speaking on behalf of her husband won’t have as much impact as him.

  
This round goes to him.

 

\---------------------------------

  
His hair is not as curly as it was before.

  
Catherine hates that she notices. One would think that the self-loathing would get tiring at this point, but it turns out there are still depths of hatred left.

  
“Your hair is different.” She hears herself say as they ride through the town. Cheers surround them, shouts of “Tudor” and “God Bless Prince Arthur” echoing through her ears.  
Catherine tries to ignore that “Prince Harry” “Prince of the people” and “God Bless the Duke of York” are just as numerous.

  
“Yes, I decided it made me look…childish.” Harry turns his head, flashing her a sly smile. “Do you like it?”

  
“It suits you.” Catherine says through numb lips. She is chilled and has a headache. The English weather takes time to get used to.

  
“Thank you.” Harry sounds pleased. “You look lovely as ever.”

  
“I look wan and tired.” She corrects.

  
“Every look of yours is beautiful.” He replies, gaze intense.

  
Catherine tilts her head, looking at Harry through the corner of her eye. Behind her, she can hear Lina stifle a frustrated sniff as Charles Brandon tries to charm her.

  
“Your speech was well received.” She changes the subject. Harry bows his head, allowing the shift.

  
“As was yours.”

  
“Yours was better.”

  
“To be fair, I know the English people well. You will also learn. They love you as it is. Their love will only grow in time.”

  
“I know.” This isn’t the time for modesty. One thing Catherine has been proud of is her ability to get the English people to love her. Even in her past life they had been loyal, decrying and hating Boleyn on her behalf. Unlike their King.

  
“You have a way of touching them.” Harry says thoughtfully, horse coming closer to her. Catherine wants to shy away but doesn’t. She won’t have Harry thinking she is nervous in his presence.

  
“As do you.” Catherine acknowledges. His plan has been masterful. He endears himself to the people, rises in esteem in Arthur’s eyes, and unmans Arthur in the same breath.

  
_I should have proposed my plan to Arthur before he came in_ Catherine concedes. _But I was so tired…_

  
The past few days have been exhausting. Between Lina and Arthur, Catherine and Oviedo were run ragged. She is thinking of asking her mother to send more Moorish and Spanish physicians, just to be safe. The English, she realized in her past life, knew little and less about medicine.

  
Certainty nothing about fertility. Catherine thinks ruefully. Her mother had had a fertility surgery- perhaps Catherine could ask for the surgeons without raising suspicion?

  
“It isn’t hard to make people love you.” Harry’s voice intrudes. “You have to understand what they want.”

  
“And what do they want?” She asks archly.

  
“They want to feel safe. To feel as if they can go about their day. To be able to eat well. To sleep without leaky roofs.” Harry shrugs.

  
This is why he had been so popular as a King. He had the pulse of the commons and a way to manipulate them that was unparalleled. Catherine had the instinct as well, but Harry breathed it from the cradle where she had learned it on her mother’s knee. In this case, Margaret Beaufort is a more apt teacher. Harry has learned well.

  
“You do know your people well.” Catherine says, leaning towards him. Harry grins at her, the boyish smile catching her heart.

  
“I look forward to teaching you as well.” His smile turns sly. Catherine snorts in response, urging her horse faster. Harry matches the pace, and as they move towards Ludlow, her blood runs cold with what she hears.

  
 “Long live the Tudors!”

  
 “Long Live Prince Arthur!”

  
“Long Live Prince Harry!”

 

“Long live the Spanish Princess!”

 

“Harry!” “Catherine!”

  
“Harry!” “Catherine!”

  
_Our names still sound so sweet together._ Catherine thinks with an ache. Spurring her horse, she rides to Ludlow at a near gallop.

  
Hoping Harry will think the tears streaming down her cheeks are from the wind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do NOT expect quick updates past this week y'all. I'm going on a trek and there are unlikely to be updates for 3 weeks. The Spanish Princess should be done by then, but since this is an AU it shouldn't matter much.
> 
> The reason I'm writing this fiction is because Charlotte Hope and Ruairi O'Connor are scorching hot together, and I'm praying they will star in something else as a couple, cause its hard to ship Henry and any of his wives cause the real guy was a grade A douche. 
> 
> Regarding Anne Boleyn: I got some concerned comments about her, so here are the facts: I like Anne Boleyn. She, like all of Henry's wives, was a complicated women who got shoehorned to either being a) saint or b) jezebel. I like to think the real woman, like ALL of Henry's wives, was a little more than that. In this fic she is Harry are NOT the endgame. He isn't a nice person, and Catherine, unlike Anne, knows exactly who he is when she starts playing her game. Catherine knows what she is getting into (it blows up in her face in an unexpected way, but she knows the score going in). Anne does not. Therefore Anne will NOT end up with not so nice Henry in this fic. Catherine will. Anne WILL have her happy ending and it won't be an easy road, but she is going to get it by hook or crook. All three characters will (even not so nice Henry cause this is fic and R. O'Connor is hot and I'm shallow)


	3. To be superior to my former self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving slowly but surely- but is Catherine going down the right path? A familiar face is about to enter court!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish princess is not mine, the books aren't mine (I wish I was getting paid to write fanfic like PG is), and the RL people are definitely under public domain.

“Near a year and she still isn’t pregnant.” Margaret grumbles. “Did Spain send us a broken brat?”

“Mother please” Henry pleads, fingers massaging his forehead. At this side, Elizabeth sits, a pinched look on her face. She had had a miscarriage not two months past, and her health was still fragile. Between his wife’s infirmity and the lack of a child between Arthur and Catherine, Henry had grown older by ten years in the past year.

“At least we have the second portion of her dowry.” Elizabeth notes, hands tapping the side of the chair. “Now all we need is the men Spain has promised.”

“What we need is for her to get pregnant.” Margaret insists. “We’ve kept the Scots at bay, but James is still bellowing for Meg’s hand. We can’t keep him away for much longer. And now we must deal with that fool Edmund De La Pool. If she is pregnant, then the Spanish monarchs will be far swifter in sending their armies.”

“Spain is having its owns issues Mother.” Henry growls. “This inquisition is taking more manpower than they thought. We can’t simply –“

“Oh, hang them all.” Margaret says crossly. “I should have realized Isabel’s faulty womb would be inherited by her daughter.”

“It took her some time to get pregnant, but she did birth four children.” Elizabeth says wearily.

“After years! We don’t have years!”

“That fertility surgeon is on his way from Spain.” Henry interjects, hand clasping Elizabeth’s. “Surely with his intersession we will be able to see Arthur and Catherine’s union bear fruit soon.”

“Well why we can’t use English doctors I don’t know. I suppose the Infanta thinks they are inferior as well.”

“Mother please…”

Margaret brightens. “At least Harry has whipped the Scots at the border. His bravery has given us some breathing room.”

“Yes.” Henry concedes. “Harry is the reason Meg hasn’t already been shipped off the Scotland, I know.”

“You should give him some land and titles when he comes back.” Elizabeth advises, standing and getting ready to leave. “He will be happier for it.”

“Something has been making him unhappy the past few months.” Margaret agrees. “Giving him greater revenue will give him some cheer.”

“Both of you are too soft on that boy.” Henry grumbles.

“Listen to the women in your life.” Margaret smiles. “When have we ever led you wrong?”

 

“So Catherine still isn’t pregnant?” Harry’s question sounds innocent, but the intent look on his face is anything but. Wolsey sighs in exasperation, while at Harry’s side Charles Brandon rolls his eye.

“No, she isn’t pregnant.”

“How tragic. My brother must be devastated.”

“He hasn’t said much actually.” Wolsey corrects. Harry’s brows raise, surprise flashing over his face before the expression smooths into blankness. “Prince Arthur says it will be as God wills it.”

“Interesting…”Harry muses. “Well, I hope the fault isn’t with her. It would be a true tragedy if it was.” He catches Wolsey’s nonplussed expression and grins. “For England of course.”

“Of course.” Wolsey echoes.

 

 

“If Arthur hasn’t said anything, it is likely the fault is with him as much as it could be with her.” Harry informs Charles as they stride down the hallway. “He’s probably ashamed that he has Catherine in his bed and doesn’t know what to do with her.”

“Whereas you have demonstrated amply that you know what to do with a woman.” Charles wryly responds. Harry smiles and shrugs.

“No one has ever complained.”

“I know. _Everyone_ knows. Including your Spanish Princess.”

“Catherine knows that the others are of the flesh. And she is not.”

“Come off it Harry, leave Catherine be. You spend three months at the borders of Scottish hell and the first thing you do when we come back to civilization is ask for the state of your sister-in-law’s womb? Don’t be absurd!”

“Careful Charlie. Remember who you speak to.” Harry responds coolly. “As next in line, it is my duty to learn about what grows in Catherine’s belly.”

“It isn’t duty Harry.”

“Oh, don’t be dour Charlie. She’s warmed up to me, hasn’t she?”

The problem was exactly that. Charles thought. In the beginning the Infanta had been cool towards Harry, which had spurred his friend to a more fervent pursuit, under guise, of course. Even Harry wasn’t fool enough to court his sister-in-law in front of his family.

And then there was a thaw as the weeks went on. When Catherine and Arthur came back from Ludlow. The distance between the Prince and Princess of Wales was evident, though bit by bit it diminished. But there was nothing in their demeanor that could be described as “intimate”. And Charles Brandon knew intimacy between pairs. Catherine and Arthur were more akin to brother and sister. Harry and Catherine did not have it either.  Not yet.

If only Harry would cease his pursuit! What did he think was going to happen? The woman was royalty on both sides of the bloodline. Did Harry think she would swoon into his arms and let him ravish her? It was evident to Charles that the Infanta would not compromise her honor. She was no fool. But Harry’s pursuit was dogged. He, Arthur and Catherine had “met” for hunts, and Harry had found her other hiding places soon enough.

 There was something between them, a yearning that was growing, something that was almost palpable if you knew what to look for.  The King and Queen did not see it. Neither did the court, except perhaps Stafford and Wolsey who knew Harry well. But the Queen Mother would soon become aware of the undercurrents of attraction now that Harry was back.

“Arthur treats her like a doll.” Harry said, lengthening his stride. Charles hurried to catch up. “Like a perfect doll actually. Perfection is an impossible standard to hold any woman to.”

“Whereas you know her for all her flaws?” Charles grumbles.

Harry pauses, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. “When she and I came up with the strategy to beat James army, she told me I should cut his head off and bring it back if I could.”  He smiles at Charles’s grimace. “Macabre yes? An effect of her upbringing I should think. Her mother used to take her to battle. Catherine was actually in Isabel’s womb when she rode into a skirmish.”

“How do you –?” Harry shrugs “She told me.”

“In a letter?”

“During a hunt.”

“…”

“I told you she was warming up to me didn’t I?”

“This is a dangerous game you play Harry.” Charles finally says as they came upon the hall. “What do you think the outcome will be.”

“My victory.” Harry replies, walking in as he was announced.

 

“The Duke of York is back.” Rosa’s excitement mirrors Catherine’s dread. She has hopes that distance will have cured her but fears it has not.

Catherine has had no intention of thawing towards Harry at all. But he is as charming and irrepressible as she remembered, and it is so hard to push him away. Her memories of the previous life are fading, and with it the visceral reactions to Harry’s cruelty. It is so hard to remember his capricious nature when he is in front of her, when her body reacts so acutely to his. So hard to conjure the memories of Anne Boleyn when he intrudes on a hunt and matches her shot for shot while Arthur languishes to the side.

So hard to remember how he had taken Mary away when they came upon the strategy of fighting the Scots together as Arthur added commentary.

She can’t even curb her jealously as she sees him with the court women. At night, Catherine torments herself with visions of Harry with those women, his fingers prying pleasure from their bodies, wringing them dry as he used to with her.

It is unbearable.

None of it would matter if she was pregnant. But Arthur hasn’t touched her despite all her efforts. To her horror it is not that he does not want to. It is that he can’t. Kisses and caresses do nothing. No matter what they try he did not rouse. Arthur has pleaded that she tell no one of his plight, so for near a year Catherine has borne the humiliation of being thought barren once again. 

Her patience is ending. Isabel is sending a fertility surgeon, and while Catherine intends to use him (she hasn’t forgotten entirely the trials of getting pregnant), she will ask Arthur to be looked at as well.

“Which dress do you wish to wear?” Lina asks, standing by the wardrobe. Catherine contemplates, looking at the array of clothing. She has been frugal in this life, remembering the miseries of her previous one have made her thrifty. As such, there aren’t as many dresses as a Princess of Wales should have.

Catherine has spent the money on building hospitals, charities, and alm houses. In case the worst comes to pass and the Reformation begins despite her intervention, the poor of the country will need a safety net. She can provide that. It is a much better use of her money than dresses.

“The blue.” Catherine finally says, pointing to a favorite of hers. It contrasts beautifully with her hair, and she intends to put it up today. Lina echoes the compliment, taking out the dress carefully.

“How is Oviedo?” Catherine asks, stepping into the dress as Rosa lays out the jewelry. Lina blushes, averting her eyes as she answers.

“He is doing well Highness. He enjoys being Captain of the guard, and the pay is going towards savings.”

“If you need anything from me let me know.” Catherine replies. She has fought long and hard for Lina and Oviedo to be able to be together. It binds them tighter to her, and Catherine will be damned before she gives Margaret Beaufort any satisfaction. “I have some gold plates I can have melted as dowry.”

“Thank you, Highness.” Lina’s voice chokes, and Catherine holds her hand. In this life, Maggie Pole is not as close to her, being firmly in Arthur’s camp. Rosa is too flighty to trust with many secrets. Lina is the only one Catherine can really speak to. As such, she knows far more about Catherine’s confused feelings for Harry that she is comfortable with.

_Let me look upon him and be stone._ Catherine begs the status of Jesus that is in her room. _Let me see him and feel nothing but contempt for who he is._

_Please, oh Lord, please…_

The Lord, unsurprisingly, does not answer her prayers.

The moment Harry walks into the room Catherine is aware of him. She can feel the pull towards him as he approaches the dias. By her side, Arthur smiles at his brother, trying to appear imperial. Harry, on the other hand, exudes regality and health without any effort. The contrast cannot be starker.

“Well done, my boy.” King Henry booms. By his side, the Queen and Queen Mother wear matching smiles.  Harry bows, smiling at his father.

“Thank you, father.” He says graciously. “It is only by the grace of God, the strength of the Tudor army, and the love of the people of the border that we have won the day.”

_And the feints we came up with._ Catherine thinks drolly, meeting Harry’s eyes and turning hers away as he winks subtly. She can feel Arthur’s gaze upon her and struggles to hold onto her composure.

“As a reward, I am awarding you the lands near the border than you reconquered and all the tenant rights to those lands. You are the sole owner and may do as you see fit.”

Subtle gasps filter through the hall. Harry has taken back a significant portion of the land. The move makes him stronger than he already is, at par with Arthur now instead of slightly below. By the sparkle in his eyes, and the frown in Arthur’s both are aware of this face.

Harry bows again, and moves to take his place on the table.

“One moment, little brother.” Arthur announces, standing up. He faces the King and smiles. “My brother did much to curb the Scottish incursion, and so I and my wife too wish to give him a gift.” Catherine blinks. They had not discussed this at all. What is happening, she has not been consulted.

“I know my little brother is fond of the exotic.” Arthur’s voice has an undercurrent of mockery and Harry smiles darkly in response.

“To this end, I present to him my wife’s parrot, Dominos. May he remind Harry of the charms of Spain, and the exoticness he so loves.”

Catherine suddenly wants to jab her fork into Arthur’s hand. What right does he have to give her animals away? They were hers! And Dominos especially. The well loved bird that was cossetted by everyone in her retinue.

Harry inclined his head in response. “I thank you, brother for the gift.” He replied glibly. “And ask that the Infanta come often to visit her bird, for I fear it will languish without her radiant presence.”

Damn him and his silver tongue! Catherine forced herself to nod as Harry moved to his place next to her.

“My brother didn’t tell you, did he?” He whispered into her ear as the food was placed onto the table. “Your eyes snap beautifully when you are angry. Makes me want to keep you in a perpetual strop so I can immortalize that look.”

“Be sure to speak to other family members brother.” Arthur said before Catherine could reply. “We don’t want you to monopolize her.”

“Oh, perish the thought.”

“Your Majesty.” The moment was interrupted by Stafford walking in. “The man you asked for has arrived.”

“Ah yes.” The joviality in Henry’s voice was forced but no one commented on it. “Arthur, Henry, there is a man I want you both to meet. He is my ambassador to France and has done excellent work there. He recently came back with his daughters for another appointment.”

_No_ Catherine knew the blood had drained from her face.  Harry leaned towards her in concern, while Arthur raised a brow. _No, please, it can’t be, It’s too soon!_

_Why is he here now? Why is she here now? Why?!_

“Sir Thomas Boleyn!”

_The scandal of Christendom. Anne Boleyn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter before vacation- feel free to speculate what comes next!


	4. The scandal of christendom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne Boleyn makes her appearance! But the circumstances are different, Catherine is different, and more importantly Henry is different. Will history repeat itself? (spoiler: No, it won't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Princess isn't mine, and I'm lowkey going to stop watching Season 2 after a few episodes when the demise comes on. This is a fanfiction- solace!

Catherine was more beautiful than Anne Boleyn. This was not her vanity speaking, it was an objective fact.

Of course, the first time around, Catherine had been older, stress and anguish aging her faster than her due. Her pregnancies had also resulted in her body being disfigured. It was a mark of how long Harry had loved her that he had visited her as often as he did. It was only after her childbearing years were thought to be that he stopped.

 _Yet when Anne Boleyn took his attention, he abandoned me completely._ Catherine thought sadly. _He locked me away and left me to rot. Harry closed his heart wholly to me._

In this life, she and Anne Boleyn were a comparable age (how was it possible? It baffled her), and Catherine had no string of miscarriages and pregnancies to ruin her.

Yet it was not just Anne’s beauty that had ensnared Harry. It was her wit, her intelligence, and her opinions.

That had not changed.

Catherine could see that Harry was intrigued by the new arrival. Anne Boleyn bought with her the latest French fashions and played the line between the coquette and the maiden very well. Even Catherine could admit Anne Boleyn was a sight to watch, and her turn as Perseverance in the dance of the ‘Sins and Virtues’ was very well done. Of course, watching her and Harry dance together while she and Arthur were relegated to the side sent stabbing pains through Catherine’s heart.

 _I should rejoice._ She thought bleakly. _My position is secure. Harry cannot send me away like a whipped dog._

_But it hurts._

_It hurts._

 

_\-------_

 

“You still have not consummated the union?” Maggie could not keep the surprise out of her voice. Arthur flinched and she immediately moderated her tone. “I thought that you two were getting along better.”

Arthur nodded, unable to hide his misery. “It won’t…I can’t….”

Maggie nodded slowly, understanding what he struggled to articulate. “You cannot…perform?” She asked delicately.

The boy, and he was a boy not a man struggled to be coherent. “Its not just that I can’t perform.” He said shyly. “Its that she isn’t…” he looked for the right words, gave up, and rephrased “there is a barrier we cannot cross. Even when she tries to rouse me things never get…heated. She isn’t…there. She’s somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?” Maggie asked slowly. Arthur nodded, frustrated.

 _Or with **someone**_ else? Maggie thought darkly. She was aware of the airs between Harry and Catherine. Maggie had seen something similar between Henry and Elizabeth so long ago. Harry wasn’t as subtle as he thought, and Catherine had too high an opinion of herself if she believed no one was watching her watch Harry.

 _I won’t let her make a fool of Arthur_ Maggie vowed. _I will speak with her._  

 But as the months went on, she never had the chance. 

 -------

 

Anne had come to court hiding a shattered countenance. Her father’s ambitions had caused her own broken heart. Henry Percy had been willing to fight for her, but Thomas Boleyn had been aware of his many debts. He had called the creditors, and under pressure, the Earl of Northumberland had locked his son away. Before Anne knew what was happening, she and Mary had been whisked to court, and she was instructed to win the Duke of York’s heart.

 _You might be a mere knights daughter, but you are beautiful, intelligent, and charming._ Thomas Boleyn had said. _You can win his heart. Prince Harry appreciates matters of the mind. And since he isn’t to be King, they will not be too put out if he names you as his hearts’s desire._

And so as a dutiful daughter, Anne had set about to do just that. What did a broken heart matter to an ambitious father? What did her weeping soul matter to a rapacious suitor? But Prince Harry was a surprise.

Charming and knowledgeable, the Prince had a lust for life. His interests were varied, and his mastery of them considerable. It was a challenge to keep up with him, and Anne had always relished challenges.

He was also lustful, she noted wryly, and had often tried to tryst with her. Keeping him away while keeping his interest was a task in in of itself. So bit by bit, as months passed, Anne’s heartbreak lessened. Though it flared unexpectedly at times, there were entire days that went by and she did not think of Henry Percy.

Being the object was interest for the Duke of York wasn’t enough to mend her heart. Yet. Anne was pragmatic, and she would make it enough.

 

\-------

 

Despite what Charlie thought, Harry wasn’t a fool. He knew full well the repercussions of going after his sister in law. That he did so was not a matter of impulse. Harry _knew_ Catherine, in a way he imagined few people did. What Harry had shared with Catherine, he had shared with no one else, not even his mother and grandmother. It was likely the same for her.

The woman he knew, the woman beneath the façade…that woman was temptation itself. Harry knew what people thought about him. Spoiled, fickle, foolish. Despite being better than his brother in every way, he still had to live in Arthur’s shadow. That had been why he had started writing letters to Catherine when Arthur had given up.

In the beginning it had been a game- a cruel one, designed to hurt Arthur in every way possible. Harry won at everything, and he sought to win the heart of Arthur’s bride before his brother even knew there was competition. Truthfully, he hadn’t even though of Catherine – only hurting Arthur had mattered. But as the correspondence continued, it became harder and harder to be writing as Arthur. There were times he had signed the letter in his own name and had to throw away the document and begin again. Catherine was pure and resolute, yet beneath the exterior lay humor, passion, self-deprecation, and gravity.  She was a creature of desire with a ruthless mind. Unlike any woman he had ever know. Without knowing what Catherine looked like, Harry fell in love with her words. Her mind, her wit, her passion, and her self-possession came together in an intoxicating mix that Harry could not help but succumb to.

When he heard that she had landed, Harry had flown into a fury, yelling at poor Mary until Meg took her away. It had only been when Catherine alighted on the shores of England that Harry realized that she was not his, and would never be his. To have her, and not have her, to touch her soul but be deprived of her flesh- It was wound that he was convinced that only possessing Catherine would heal.

After seeing her Harry’s conviction only increased. Her lips, her face, her body…the vessel was as heady as the spirit inhabiting it. He had tried to make Charlie understand, but his friend saw only lust. Harry knew that Catherine could feel the strong undercurrent between them. She avoided him but kept being drawn to him. Watching her and Arthur together was watching a lamb and a lion frocking. Unnatural in the extreme.

Yet he and Catherine had reached an impasse. She would not allow Harry further into her heart.

And so, the introduction of Anne Boleyn could not have come at a better time. Thomas Boleyn’s daughter was a beauty and a wit, and if Harry had not met Catherine before, it was very likely he would have fallen wholly in love with Anne. Even with Catherine, it was a struggle. Anne was a tease in many ways, mocking him with her mind and body and pulling away when things became too passionate. In a way she was like Catherine. But Harry knew that while Catherine genuinely struggled with her desire for him and the back and forth wasn’t a tease so much as it was a battle of wills, Anne was playing a courtly game to entice him. He supposed that was why he hadn’t fully fallen in love.

 

\-----

 

“You seem to enjoy your time with Mistress Boleyn.” Catherine thought she managed to keep the jealously out of her voice, but the smirk Harry shot her named her a liar.

“Mistress Boleyn is a splendid new fixture in court.” He agreed, raising the crossbow and they made their way across the forest. He had bagged three pheasant so far, while she had four. Harry’s competitiveness made them stay past their time. Arthur and Maggie Pole would not be pleased.

Well, Catherine was beginning to care little and less for their opinions.

“I did not know Thomas Boleyn had such…charming daughters.” She said carefully. Harry laughed under his breath, steadying the crossbow as they spotted the flock. Silence reined for a moment, before the crossbow twanged. A squawk broke the silence of the clearing as the flock flew away, with one bird dead on the ground. Harry jogged towards his kill, while Catherine made her way more sedately.

“You mean to say that Mary Boleyn is a ripe tart, while Anne is a bit more…delicate in her pursuits? They are both rather transparent despite themselves.” He wagged his eyebrows at her, and she laughed in reply.

“Oh Harry. Those poor Boleyn girls. I pity them. They hunt you not knowing you are the hunter.”

“A mistake you would never make.”

“Well, I know you, don’t I?”

“Better than most people.” Harry’s face turned serious, and Catherine moved away in response.

“Stop it, Harry.” Her eyes darted to the attendants who were a few feet away. “You speak with such forwardness to me. You own sister.”

“Don’t.” His eyes bored into hers. “You are _not_ my sister. Don’t make light of my feelings or yours, Catherine. You wrote love letters to me, not Arthur. I’m tired of you ignoring that fact. Tell me, have you told my brother half of what you told me?”

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because you haven’t spoken or alluded to it in so many months. It’s been near a year since you came to England, and we have not talked about the fact that you wrote love letters to the wrong prince. Arthur isn’t a fool. He knows that I’ve made love to you – in words at least.”

“Don’t be foolish.” Catherine’s voice rose, before she forced it down. “Arthur knows that we are good friends who have gotten past that…mishap.”

Harry scoffed. “Friends.” He replied derisively. “Between you and I, no friendship is possible. Passion, enmity…worship…love.” His hands rose, fingers tucking underneath her chin as he stepped closer. “All of this is possible.” Harry whispered. “Friendship is not. I will not hide in shadow what should shine in the sun.”

Catherine wrenched her face away, stepping farther while controlling her breath. “Nothing should be in the sun.” She said. “You claim that you are better than Arthur yet look at you. Speaking like a boy, when you should be acting like a man.”

“I speak like a man. Arthur cannot match my courage or confidence.”

“You wish to rule a kingdom, when you can’t even rule yourself.” Catherine sneered.

“Trying to mock me to push me away isn’t going to work.” He warned her. “I know what you are truly like Catherine. You came to England knowing that the alliance was needed, but hoping, no praying for love. To have the passion and commitment your parents have. You craved that type of love.  And I tell you now, you have that. It isn’t with a man whose veins are filled with water. Your love is me. You respected me. You admired me. You fell in love with me. ”

“It was illusion- a cruel jest you played. A deception cannot be the bedrock of a life.” Catherine hated the tremble in her voice, hated that Harry still affected her so. She hated that she knew all too well of what she spoke.

 

 “You think you are noble, Harry, saving me from a loveless existence, but never in history have more mistakes made then when men think themselves noble. Content yourself with Anne Boleyn as I have with Arthur.” Oh, how the words hurt to say!

Harry’s laughter was underscored with scorn. “Oh, have you then? Is that why he walks around like lost lamb, forever seeking shelter in Maggie Pole’s skirts? Why you speak to him as a child to be put to task?” He sobered, looking at Catherine intently. “You cannot scour away our love, Catalina.” She shuddered, hating the effect his voice saying her name had. “A life without love…is a sunless garden. A Spanish Princess cannot flourish in such gloom. So long as your heart beats, I will find myself within it. Remember that, next time you are with your husband.”

\----- 

 

Charles Brandon had never pursued a woman as hard as he was pursuing Lady De’Cardines. Catherine’s dark beauty of a maid was too good at rebuffs and rebuttals and the unexpected stonewalling from the Princess of Wales had made the match even more enticing.

 _See Harry?_ He thought, amused. _I understand the thrill of the chase. I just don’t let it destroy me._

He ducked into the corner as Catherine and her maid came around. Wedging himself in, Charles listened intently to the conversation.

“There is something wrong with him Lina. Nothing I do rouses him.” Catherine’s despair was evident. “He tells me he is not a horse to be stud, and yet allow insinuations that I am barren. I’m tired of it!”

“It is evident.” Lina’s voice was concerned. “You are being far too curt with your husband, Highness. People are noticing. There is a reason Prince Harry was so forward during the hunt.”

_Really Harry? You court Boleyn on the one hand, and entice your sister-in- law on the other? Where **do** you get the energy from?_

“Harry and I were just speaking, Lina.” Now Catherine was angry. “We did nothing untoward.”

“If looks were enough to indict you both would have been beheaded for treason.” In contrast, Lina was calm. “He does not look at you as a man looks upon his sister. More importantly, the way you look at him…”

“How do I look at him then?!”

“As if you are Eve.” Lina’s voice was soft. “And he is the apple.”

Charles admired Lina’s poetry for a moment before understanding the full context of the conversation.

_Princess Catherine is a virgin still? And she is so close to giving in to Harry? I must ensure Harry spends more time with Anne Boleyn. He cannot be caught in a scandal with his sister in law!_

_Harry, you fool, why do you not see the stakes in this game you play? Must I always save you from yourself?_

_\-------_

 

Maggie firmly believed it was God’s divine plan that the surgeon sent by the Spanish monarchs alighted the same day that Elizabeth went into the labor. The man had scarce set foot in the palace when Henry co-opted him, haranguing him to save his wife.

Elizabeth was bleeding badly. The child had come too early. Maggie was banished from the rooms in a fit of paranoia, but she did see the surgeon take out a sharp knife before barking orders in Spanish. Making her way to the hall, she stopped to see Catherine sitting in between Arthur and Harry instead of near Arthur. She held Mary in her lap, and was clutching Meg’s hand tightly. Arthur and Harry sat tensed, and Harry jumped as she entered the room.

“How is she?” He asked urgently. Maggie shook her head, unable to answer. Harry let out a frustrated shout, pacing back and forth. After a few moments, Catherine stirred, leaving Mary to Meg and stepping towards Harry. Maggie’s eyes darted to Arthur and she noted the frown on his face as he observed the interaction between his brother and wife. Catherine, ignoring everyone else in the room, lightly touched Harry’s back. He stilled immediately.

“You have to remain calm.” She said to him, pressing her hand more firmly on his skin. He shuddered lightly as she did so. “You can not help you mother by pacing like a wild bull. Be calm and sit down. Your younger siblings look to you for guidance.”

Not Arthur. Maggie noted. But Catherine wasn’t lying. It was Harry Mary and Margaret gravitated towards. It always had been. She saw Arthur’s head bow to the side as his wife’s words pierced him. For that alone, Maggie hated Catherine. It was the duty of a wife to support her husband. But Catherine gutted Arthur and exposed his innards for all to see. She had no patience for weakness, perhaps a remnant of her mother, who was famous for her disdain for softness.

More and more Maggie was realizing how unsuited Catherine and Arthur were for each other. But when had matters of the heart mattered in alliances of thrones?

She only hoped that Arthur would not end up with a broken heart.  But feared, as she watched Harry sit and catch Catherine’s eye, that the path had already been laid out for that very outcome to come to pass.

 ------------

 

The physician’s care gave Elizabeth of York another month of life, but she eventually succumbed to childbed fever. The baby had been too tiny to live, and predeceased her mother. She had been named Catherine.

“Hopefully its not a portent of things to come.” Rosa whispered to Lina as they laid aside mourning clothes for Catherine.

“Be quiet.” Lina hissed back. “You keep speaking rubbish. Hasn’t your brush with Stafford alerted you to the benefits of being not seen or heard?”  


“I was only thinking out loud.” Rosa mumbled back. “It is an ill portent that the child died so soon.”

“Or perhaps God wanted to see the little angel.” Catherine’s voice intruded on the women, and the whirled around the see her standing by the door. “You should not speak of such things, Rosa, you know that. Now cease your prattle and help me dress.”

“My apologies, Highness.” Rosa was subdued as she moved towards Catherine. “But I am only concerned for you.”

Catherine laughed bitterly. “You think I will die in childbed Rosa? For that my husband and I would have to lay together. Can you think of anything more foolish?”

“Highness…” Lina hissed, closing the door. Catherine burst into tears, sinking on the bed.

“Nothing works!” She cried. “Nothing I do makes Arthur react. He treats me like a leper while I am only trying to do my duty! And Harry… he is always with Mistress Boleyn!”

“What does Mistress Boleyn have to do with…” Line motioned to Rosa to move to the side as she knelt in front of Catherine.

“Highness please control yourself.  You cannot allow your…regard for Prince Harry to get the best of you. Remember why you are here- to forge an alliance between Spain and England. You are the daughter of Fernando and Isabella, who reconquered all of Spain. Yours is a proud lineage…”

“Descended from a bastard branch.” Catherine rose. “In that sense is my blood really that much better than Anne Boleyn’s?” She laughed wildly, then controlled herself. “No, Lina, do not worry. It is simply all things coming together that has unnerved me. Why, did you think I was going to be like Juana?” Lina’s start told Catherine that she had hit the mark. “I’m not mad, Lina, merely distraught. I wonder why Madre’s physician will say and worry about that.”

“The fault is not in you.” Lina replied as Rosa stepped forward with Catherine’s perfume. The subtle aroma of spices and musk was unparalleled and a sharp contrast to the flowery scents preferred by many ladies of the court, including Anne Boleyn, who was known to favor roses. Catherine’s scents on the other hand, were imported directly from the Moors of Spain, and so were exotic to the court. Another way she stood out.

“I pray you are right.” Catherine whispered as she made ready to leave the room.

 _But does it matter even if you are?_ She thought bleakly. _When the thought of bedding Arthur makes me burst into tears?_

Poor Arthur. In her first life, Catherine had worked so hard to woo him. She had liked him- his shyness, his dreams of Camelot, all of it. In this life, she had the memories of her time with Harry, and good or bad, the passion and exhilaration made it a dull life with Arthur.

Deep in thought, Catherine walked down the hall. _Juana loves Felipe to the point of madness, yet he ill-treats her. Perhaps her passion is why she submits to his treatment. He validates her existence. In a sad way, I can understand that. So many people just exist in this world. With Harry, for so many years, I **lived**_. _And its impossible to forget that._

Deciding, she swerved to the side, going into the room where Elizabeth of York’s coffin lay.  

 --------

 

“I do not understand how you could come here.” Harry’s voice trembled as Catherine walked towards him. “Knowing you would not see your mother again.”

“It was difficult. I had been preparing for my departure my entire life, and I nearly begged my mother to reconsider when my departure came. But I knew she would have stood firm. My mother has always pushed me towards my destiny.” Catherine stood across from him, contemplating him for a moment. She put her hand on his, squeezing gently.

“Destiny.” Harry quietly scoffed, turning his hand and capturing her fingers. Catherine allowed it. When Harry left this room, Anne Boleyn would be waiting to comfort him. This was the only moment that he was Catherine’s.

As she had been walking down the hall, thinking of her sister Juana, and consequently her sister’s husband, Felipe, Catherine had come to a decision. It did no good, she concluded, to punish Harry for sins he had not committed in this life. He was not her husband, nor did he have any obligations towards her.  If he chose to pursue Anne Boleyn, she was in no position to be angry. The best thing Catherine could do was let him go. So all she would allow herself was this one moment. And then she would remove herself and allow Harry to be with his “great passion” as Cromwell had been fond of telling her.

Harry’s grip was tight, unrelenting. “My mother often spoke of my destiny.” He said. “She never made me think I was second to Arthur. Mother always felt God had great plans for me.”

“I’m sure he does.” Catherine moved towards him, skirting the side of the tomb. “In Spain, we have matador fights for entertainment. There was a bull, so magnificent that people from all over Spain came to see him fight. We called him El Rey.”

“The King?”

Catherine smiled. “Your Spanish keeps surprising me Harry. Yes. So named because he fought not as if he was the prey, but as if he was the predator. Majestic and regal, no one could stand up to him. Until he was gored by a matador. But still he stood. For days and days, until my mother finally called a physician to look upon him. He recovered and was the pride of Spain for many years. Many bulls in our arenas have been sired by him. You,” here she touched his chest, looking deep into his eyes. “You are El Rey. You are wounded, but you stand. And soon you will recover and fight on.”

“Yes.” He rasped, fingers catching her cheek, sliding down to her neck slowly. “I stand. I stand for you.” Taking a breath, he drew her close. “I love your scent Catherine. You do not know what you do to me.”

“Harry…”

“One kiss.” He whispered, hovering over her lips. “For the love of God, Catherine, that is not too much to ask. Give me only what you promised a lifetime ago.”

For a moment the world stood still as Catherine contemplated him. She nodded, and Harry pressed his lips onto hers.

It was unlike the kisses of her first life, which had been passionate, tumultuous, and finally lifeless. No, this kiss took on a life of its own.

It was full of anger, of pain, which settled so quickly into anguish that it made Catherine’s head spin. She gasped, sobbed, as Harry’s arm settled around her waist, pushing her into him more fully. The kiss transformed, now an anchor to her survival. Catherine whimpered, swallowing Harry’s moan as he dove in for another, the impact and taste of which was as inviting as it was searing.

“Enough.” She managed to gasp, pushing him away and stumbling out of his arms. “Enough. Enough. You’re – you can’t – ”

“I didn’t…” Harry said, looking stunned, then tormented. “Catherine, I didn’t mean…I hadn’t planned –“

Catherine shook, forcing herself backwards. “It was a mistake.” She replied firmly. “A mistake.”

Was that her voice? So hoarse? Where had her breath gone?

“Catherine…”

She did what no daughter of Ferdinand and Isabel had ever done. Catherine turned around and fled.

 _I will never be free of him now._ Her body ached with desire, with confusion, with regret. Catherine ached for Harry.

_I will never be free._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Updates are going to be weekly (likely) or bi-weekly from now on as I try to finish up the chapters and start on a new fic (also Spanish Princess, shock). 
> 
> Also quick thing: Henry took 4 years between 1526 (when he first noticed Anne) and 1530 when he declared himself head of his own church. In that time he spent time with Catherine without any acrimony. So Anne was the "Passion" of his life over a period of time. It wasn't an immediate attraction.


	5. The hole is deep enough for the two of us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plan does not survive first contact with the enemy. In other words, Catherine tries to use foresight, but fails. Actually everyone is a idiot.
> 
> Shorter chapter, but the show must go on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Princess= not mine. If only. I'd change it to be low-brow fantasy with a happy ending.

“I would like you to examine Prince Arthur before you look at me.” The imperial physician merely raised a brow at the unorthodox request, standing a respectful distance away. Catherine’s nerves remained strained, but she retained her composure masterfully.

It had been a few weeks since she shared a kiss with Harry. With the exception of one moment, during Meg’s wedding reception, where she had slipped and fallen under his spell, Catherine had avoided him, and he was mimicking her behavior, throwing himself into hunts, dances, and rides with Boleyn’s daughter.

 _She is welcome to him._ Catherine tried to convince herself. _Let her handle his temper, his ego!_

 _But I don’t want her to be the receipt of his love, his constancy_ A small still voice within herself often replied. _I don’t want Anne Boleyn to have **my** Sir Loyal Heart!_

 _Hardly loyal._ The Juana in her replied. Her sister had a disdain for love, though she allowed it to rule her life. _The man sent you to a cold nunnery. You the daughter of the greatest monarch of Europe! He wrote that awful play about the moons, didn’t allow Mary to see you, and made you the figure of scorn and derision across Europe!_

 _After twenty years_ the soft, resolute voice from deep inside her replied. _After so many stillbirths and miscarriages. He only went to Bessie Blount to understand if the fault was with him or not. He gave me the title of reagent. He gave me so much time…_

“And afterwards I shall examine you, Highest.” The physician’s voice intruded into her thoughts. “Your mother is concerned that the nature if your malady may be different from hers.”

“That is fine.” Catherine nodded. “I am ever at my mother’s command.”

 

\-------

 

“I have seen some aspects of this illness before.” The physican’s voice was grim. “What they call the sweat, the moors call the ‘quick death’. Another, lesser known aspect is the nerve damage. People can develop fits or lose control of limbs shortly after.”

“Is that what has happened to Prince Arthur?” Lina asked after a pause. Catherine was too horrified to respond.

“Yes. The nerves in his brain that control…the reproductive functions appear to be damaged. I do believe that the impotence is permanent.”

“Permanent?” Catherine repeated slowly. The physician nodded, grimacing in response.

“Highness, I must examine you now.”

“All right.” Catherine wandered to her room in a daze. Stopping at the door, she turned to the physician. “You must not tell anyone this.” She instructed. The physician exchanged a look with the guard assigned to him. Catherine caught the look and frowned. “What is it?”

“The King’s mother has already been made aware of my findings, Highness.”

Catherine closed her eyes and lightly swore under her breathe, moving into the room in a flurry.

 

\---------

 

“The malady is similar to what your mother had, Princess.” Wiping his hands, the physician smiled. Catherine sat up, Luna hovering over the side.

“I have the needed tools with me, though of course, we will need a cleaner area, and some Spanish women who understand the idea of aftercare before we perform the surgery…”

“What is the issue?” Catherine interrupted.

“One of the tubes is twisted underneath the womb. While conception would be easy, it would make delivery trickier.”

She hesitated, but asked “And would fasting and kneeling…would it make the problem worse?”

“Excessive fasting is always bad for the body, worse for a woman trying to conceive or a pregnant woman. Kneeling past a certain point is also bad for the positioning of the child. If you overly fast or kneel your problems will be much worse.”

Catherine closed her eyes, mourning the overly pious fool she had been. As her fertility problems increased, she had turned again and again to God, her guilt over her lie overwhelming her. Little had Catherine know that she had been the author and architect if her own troubles.

 _Never again_ she vowed fiercely. _Never again will I allow ignorance to rule my life. I will not close my mind to other thoughts, shut my ears to other ideas. I am Catholic, but I will ignore the truth of other things around me._

“Leave us.” Catherine told the attendants around. The physician and his guard exchanged a glance, before the guard nodded and left as well.

“I need you to ensure that I cannot have children.” Catherine told the man, whose eyes widened in surprise. “If Arthur is impotent, it makes little sense to alleviate my own issues. He is healthy, by the grace of the Lord, and I have been married too long to claim virginity and have it believed true.”

_Though, ironically it is true this time around._

“I understand your reasoning Princess.” His voice was gentle, but the man’s eyes were hard. “However, I urge you to think upon what you have said. You ask me to perform the task of a butcher.”

“I know.” And Catherine did know. Her womb and arms ached for her sweet Mary, her darling Harry, and all her other babes which had been lost. But, in this life, she would not have the joy of having or holding her own babes. It was penance, a bitter fruit reaped from a sour harvest. “I know what I ask of you, and as your Princess, I command you obey.”

_I will be Arthur’s queen, and Harry will marry Anne Boleyn. It hurts, but this is my atonement. Harry though you do not know it, I grant you leave. It will break my heart, but you will have the children you desire with the woman you desire._

_And you will not break from the church. And England shall remain Catholic. A new Catholicism, free from corruption. That is what you will create._

_This is my gift to you. My self-flagellation for the lie that ruined so much._

The physician bowed, “As you wish.”

 

\--------------

 

“It was a successful surgery.” Margaret Beaufort’s face did not remove the pinched look upon it but Lina and Rose sighed in relief. The King’s Mother swept from the room, and the ladies rushed inside to attend to their princess.

The guard stepped up. The man’s face was thunderous.

“Did you really – ?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The physician’s voice was brusque. “Did you think I would listen to the daughter’s command over the mother’s? The woman who saved my family from the Inquisition? Her womb is fixed and when it heals she will be able to bear babes as our queen did. The danger will be there, of course, but no more than any other healthy woman. Rest assured, she is fecund now.”

“And the other matter?”

“I was able to slip the poison into a medicinal vial I gave the crown prince. It only needs two doses, which is what I told him the medicine doses were. It’s slow acting, but potent.”

“How long?”

The physician sighed. “Poor boy, he will be dead within the year.”

The guard grunted. “The English should blame themselves, asking so much of Spain and offering a weakling in return. This gives our Queen enough time to make other alliances.”

“I’ve heard the newly converted Sultan of Istanbul is looking for a wife.” The physician offered. The guard nodded, both men walking towards the exit.

“That seems like a good idea…perhaps we shall suggest it to the Reina…”

Their voices fading, the men walked away. Out of sight, stepping from behind the door, Oviedo snagged, aghast at what he had heard.

 _How could he trick the Princess thus?_ He thought, getting ready to leave and tell Lina the truth. Then, Oviedo paused, thinking the matter through.

 _If I say nothing, the princess will have to go back to Spain within the year. By that time, I will have enough saved to make a new life with Lina. She will start with me, and this will make Catherine happy as well._ He rationalized. _She is miserable here, between that weakling and the hotheaded fool. Back in Spain, or even Istanbul, among her own people, surely she will be happy again._

Mind made up, believing that this was the best course for Catherine and Lina, Oviedo walked away.

The next time he met his love, the bowman stayed silent.

Overturning all of Catherine’s plans, and putting her on an unforeseen path.

 

\-----------------

 

“He says it cannot be cured.” Charles Brandon hastily ducked into the cupboard, edging himself in as the King and his mother continued to talk.

 _Bad luck old boy_ He thought ruefully. _This room was supposed to be empty- shouldn’t have listened to Elenore. Beautiful woman but no brains between those ears…_

“Well he is likely lying.” Margaret Beaufort’s tone was strident, but even Charles could hear the panic underneath it.

“He could be, but Arthur has confessed to Maggie that his flesh does not rise. There is something wrong with him Mother.”

“It’s a lie. A vicious, vicious lie.”

“Mother, please. You have always been practical. Understand that this is the truth and we must work around it now. Before the sweat he did not want to touch her, and after the sweat he cannot touch her.”

 _Arthur is impotent?_ Charles thought incredulously _That Spanish physician came for the Prince not the Princess?_

_Wait, does this mean if Arthur can’t be fixed…Harry will be the next in line?_

_It’s more important than ever that Harry move past his obsession._ Charles decided. _His future is too important now. If he finds out that Catherine is still is maid, Harry will lose what little sense he has left. No, he cannot know. Catherine is far too close to giving in to him as is…no wonder if Arthur isn’t performing his duties. Poor girl! But Harry can’t be made to bear that burden!_

_Saving Harry from himself is my duty as his friend…and future subject._

_I must encourage Harry towards Anne Boleyn even more…the faster he loses interest in Catherine, the better it is for all of us._

_\------------_

 

“And the fault lies in Catherine?” Harry’s voice was incredulous, but Margaret ignored the tone.

“Yes.” She insisted. “Her physician performed a surgery but informed me that there was nothing he could do. He begged me to keep it a secret but I needed you to know, my darling boy. This Spanish girl has brought us nothing but misery and now she will not even produce heirs!”

“Why not annul the marriage then? Give Arthur a new wife?”

“On what grounds? Will Isabel allow her own physician to say that her daughter is barren? No, I’m afraid poor Arthur is stuck with that barren wench. But, Harry do you see now? Do you see how God has great plans for you as I have always said? Your brother has always been sickly, so it cannot be that he will have a very long reign as King. When he goes to St. Peter…”

“I will be King.” Harry completed the sentence, eyes flashing. Margaret smiled slowly, putting his cheek gently.

“We must find you a lovely Princess. A maid who will bear you may sons for the Tudor dynasty.”

Harry’s eyes shone dangerously, lips pressed in a grim smile. He paused, the nodded.

 

\--------------------

 

 “Your Grace, please.” Anne laughed softly as Harry pulled her close. Charles had come nearly an hour before, inviting her to meet the Duke. Since then, it had been a trial trying to get away from the second prince. But Anne liked games, and Harry was a prize, so she did not overly mind. But today, the Duke of York seemed to be in a strop.

“Let me kiss you.” He insisted, fingers digging into her arms. Anne grimaced, surprised by the strength of his grip. Harry relented, releasing her and getting up angrily.

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Anne ventured. “But as a noble girl, I must keep my honor.”

“Then you are a cut above your peers, Mistress Boleyn, including your sister,” He replied tersely. “For many of them, including her, have tumbled into my bed happily.”

Anne paused, cursing Mary for not telling the family this news. “Be that as it may.” She said. “My honor is dear to me, Your Grace, I am not like the others.”

“No.” Harry turned. His anger seemed to be under control, though storm clouds reigned under his expression. “You are not. You are a rare jewel, Mistress Boleyn, with few as your equal. There is only I can name who would surpass you in piety, grace and beauty, and she is…” Here he paused, a look of torment flashing across his face before it vanished, “and she is my own sister.”

_Princess Margaret? Princess Mary? I wonder of which one he speaks. Or does he mean Princess Catherine?_

Harry knocked on the door, revealing a grinning Charles Brandon. “Take Mistress Boleyn back to her room.” He pressed a hard kiss against her fingers as she passed. “I will endeavor to treat you as you deserve from now on…Anne.”

Anne smiled, walking briskly with Charles to her room.

Alone, Harry spun to the side and smashed his fist into the wooden table. “Catherine.” He groaned, pounding at the surface, agony etched into every feature. “God Catherine, why! Why did you have to be barren?”

“Why did you have to be barren?!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, writing due to Charlotte Hope and Ruairi O'Connor having an unfair amount of chemistry. Maybe they'll save me and start together in another period drama? Or any other drama?


	6. The calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The misunderstandings begin to pile up, and Harry's plan regarding Anne Boleyn is made clear (not to Catherine, unfortunately)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Princess is not mine. Belongs to Starz and PG, but I'm willing to write another screenplay with Ruairi and Charlotte! Also, I know the tenses can be a bit funky- I need a beta if anyone wants to volunteer!

Recovering from her surgery has taken time. Catherine has worked hard to become healthy as soon as possible. Even then, it takes a few weeks for her to fully recover. In that time, it appears that Henry has thrown himself into fully courting Anne Boleyn. The Earl of Wiltshire is delighted, though Margaret Beaufort is walking around with an increasingly pinched look about her face. Catherine can hazard a guess as to why- with Arthur unable to produce an heir, Harry needs to be wed to an illustrious bloodline, to further wipe away the taint of Tudor blood. Yet, wed him to too high a pedigree and people will start to question why a second son was being so elevated.

Catherine herself would have wed Harry to one of the nobilities, higher than Anne Boleyn. Someone who has Plantagenet blood, to further cement the Tudor and York claims. But she knows that once Harry makes up his mind it is impossible to change it. And it seemed that he has forgotten Catherine and fixed his heart on Anne Boleyn once more.

 _Well so what?_ Catherine thinks. _It wouldn’t have happened any other way could it have? It just happened faster in this life. As I wanted!_

So Catherine throws herself in her work. She helps manage Ludlow’s accounts from the palace, remembers the processes of revenues, taxations, general ways to help the common people. She works on building alm houses, printing presses, hospitals. What she does not do is look put the window everyday, watching for Harry’s horse. What Catherine does not do is pay attention to the dull ache in her chest. She does not think about what it makes her to want to be with someone who has made it clear they don’t want her in to return. That they desire someone else.

Catherine buries her feelings deep inside and embraces the satisfaction of doing her job well as Princess of Wales. The people of England are growing to love her more and more. She makes that her beacon, her inner fire. Catherine chases off the shadows of despair, keeping them from coming close and choking her.

And still she does not look for Harry’s horse.

 

\---

 

“I tell you that one day you will be King of England, and you set your cap on a Knight’s daughter?” Margaret’s teeth grit as she spit out the words.

Harry smirks as he bends forward and kisses her hand. “Lady Grandmother, if you cannot see through my scheme, surely others will not be able to.”

Margaret blinks, confused. “Explain.”

“While I moon after Anne Boleyn, you can reach out to the highest placed girls of the Plantagenet house. They are very practical and will bethrone  a daughter to me- especially now that we have Spain’s gold, the Scot’s are quiet, and our people love us. Then, when the deal is struck, you and father will announce a pre- contract that I was not aware of. Heartbroken, but bravely doing my duty, I shall break it off with Anne.”

“And here I thought you were a romantic.”

“I am.” Harry replies coldly. “It is a passionless man that sends one daughter to seduce and another to entice. I am no fool and do not appreciate being treated as a wit addled sop. Thomas Boleyn reaches too high. I like Anne. She is a lovely girl, and I am halfway in love with her. However, a King can play with love but not build his reign on it. Furthermore, she does not love me as much as she professes.”

“I can forgive many things, a lie to ensnare my heart? Never.”

“That’s my brilliant boy.” Margaret smiles. “I’ll begin preparations.”

Harry bows, then walks towards the door. He stops, then turns around, smiling at his grandmother. “Another thing.” He says softly. “I know where Edmund De La Pole is.”

 ---

 

“How could you have allowed him to escape?” Catherine knows her voice is too loud, but she cannot help it. Edmund De La Pole had been close at hand, but has escaped. Arthur and Harry have given chase, but the man was no where to be found.

It was likely Harry’s fault as much as Arthur’s, but Catherine knew that Harry will not be blamed. For one, he has found Edmund. For another, Margaret is positioning Harry to be groomed to be heir. Arthur, as Prince of Wales can stand the ridicule as the crown is his birthright. Harry, as a second son, cannot. Not if the nobles will begin asking why he hasn’t been sent to the church yet.

“I didn’t allow him to escape.” Arthur strives to keep his voice soft, but cannot. They are both a little way away from the rest of the party, but voices can carry. Catherine has ridden out to greet her triumphant husband, and seeing him shamefaced instead, with Harry’s disappointed visage looking over him, has made Catherine irate.

“Your father won in throne in a field of battle, your grandfather won his throne twice in the field of battle. How is it, Arthur, that you cannot even capture an unarmed foe?”

“Enough.” Arthur snaps. “I will not be unmanned by my wife! Be silent!”

Catherine raises her chin, defiant. “I will not.” She asserts. “For I know the field of battle. Who was it that came up with the tactics that defeated the Scots? Not you, though you claimed credit. Perhaps it is I who should wear the armor, and you the gown.”

She regrets get outburst as soon as Arthur’s face crumbles. In many ways, he is still a boy, bewildered that the world does not work the way it should. As to be King, Arthur has been taught that the world is to bend to his will. But he does not have the iron underneath to make is so.

“What an interesting picture that would make,” Harry’s voice overrides Arthur’s counterargument. “Though I think my brother might make a pretty maid.”

“Enough Harry.” Arthur’s voice is hoarse as he strides away. “Show respect.”

“Only to those who earn it.” Is the dry retort. Arthur clenches his fists before moving faster. Catherine and Harry gaze at each other in silence for a moment. Catherine fists her hands. It has been over five moons since the two of them were alone together. And the last time they had an earth shattering kiss. And now Harry is staring at her blank faced.

Catherine wants to stride away. She wants to push Harry up against the wall. She wants to kiss him. She wants to punch him. The violence of the last thought startles her and she sketches a quick curtsey, turning and getting ready to hurry back to her husband.

“Not even a job well done?” His voice drawls behind her. Catherine whirls, facing him.

“The man escaped.”

“Thanks to your husband.”

“Do not pretend the fault was all Arthurs”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because one day his failure could be yours.”

Harry paused, then laughs. The sound is wrecked.

“I try to put you from my mind, and you rebound back. I think I have forgotten you and yet you rise like Venus from the ocean, stripping me of all thought.”

Catherine colors, flushing at the comparison.

“I would think you are too busy crafting your own Galatea. Mistress Boleyn keeps you busy these days.” She can’t help herself, adding caustically. “Do be careful though, I heard you aren’t the first Henry she has been overly fond of.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “What –?”

Catherine begins to move past him. “I’m sure you can find out. After all, I’m only a simpering woman…you can investigate more thoroughly than I.”

She does everything she can not to touch him as she passes by but feels the ghost contact of fingertips on her lower back. When Catherine turns around, Harry is walking away, fingers of one hand touching his lips.

\---- 

 

“Edmund De La Pole has escaped, and Spain refuses to send troops.” King Henry’s head is in his hands. By his side, Margaret sips her wine slowly.  

“Not until Catherine is pregnant.” She drawls, placing her wine glass onto the table. Harry nods slowly, eyes meeting his grandmother.

“And they know that isn’t possible.”

“Yes.” Margaret agrees. “That physician has sent his report by now. Spain knows no heir will be forthcoming.”

“I still don’t think Edmund is a threat.” Harry interjects, picking up his grandmother’s wine glass and taking a small sip. He grins at her expression and put the glass back down.

“We are trying to preserve the throne for your brother and you, and you cannot even take it seriously.” Henry’s voice is harsh, and Harry frowns in response.

“Father, you need to tell Arthur I know Catherine is barren, and that I am the heir.”

“Not yet. Arthur must be given some time to come to terms with the news.” Henry shoots a glance at his mother, frowning lightly. He does not know why Margaret has lied to Harry that the fault lies with Catherine and not Arthur but sees no reason to dispel the falsehood.

“Be that as it may, the Yorks no longer have the love of the country the way the Tudors do. Our people love us Father. You had bought them stability and an end to war. All you must do to dispel the last of the malcontents is to lower these new taxes…”

“The taxes are in place to ensure Arthur’s reign is smooth.” Henry replies harshly. “I’ll hear no more about it from the Prince who prances around with his ideas about a foundry. Do you think that will cost nothing?”  


“Enough” Margaret interjects wearily. “The two of you fight like commoners. Harry, the taxes stay for now, but we can revisit them later.”

Harry shrugs.

“So, Edmund has escaped, but there is little support for him, except in France. We must ensure he cannot leave the country.”

“We will alert the coasts and have them watched. And have patrols sent out to York sympathetic locations.”

“Don’t worry Henry.” Margaret croons.  “We will find that imposter soon enough.”

Henry nods wearily, then leaves the room. Harry and Margaret stare at each other for a few moments, silent.

“How goes it with Anne Boleyn?”

“I have come upon an easy way to dissolve our liaison, that requires no pre-contract. _Anne_ is not free to marry me. How can she, when she was near married to Henry Percy? Isn’t that a pre-contract?”

“The son of the Earl of Northumberland? Really? How did you find out?”

Harry smirks humorlessly. “An exotic bird told the beginning. It was a minor matter to find out the middle. How it will end is not something I’ve decided yet.”

“How smart you are, my sweet protégé.”

“Have you found someone for me, Lady Grandmother?” “I have a few candidates, but we must make sure they are loyal first. Patience, my darling boy, patience.”

“Lady Grandmother, you had better hurry.” Harry says softly. “For I fear that my will is being rendered weak to my passion.”

“What do you mean Harry?” Margaret asks, alarmed. Harry only shrugs, moving out of the room.

Margaret stares at the table in silence, then drinks the remainder of the wine in a gulp.

\----

 

“We are reduced to hiring assassins.” Edmund’s voice is tired, but his eyes burn with fervent intensity. “But our circumstances are like Edward the IV’s. Surely we will prevail as he did.”

“I’m sure we will.” His subordinate replies, covering Edmund’s hand with his own. “This is merely a small obstacle in the way to your glorious path as King.”

“Send them.” Edmund says firmly. “But make sure they do not harm the Spanish Princess. I would not have Spain ready to invade once I ascend the throne. They must just kill Arthur. Henry will be crippled by the loss of his heir, and Harry is a hotheaded fool that the country will not follow. Once Arthur is dead, the Tudors will fall. And the Yorks will rise again.”

 

\---

 

“Is this really the time to go on a hunt?” Catherine’s tries to interject warmth into her voice. By the look Maggie Pole shoots her, she hasn’t done too good a job. Catherine briefly mourns the relationship she had with Maggie. She has tried to become better acquainted, but Arthur is still Maggie’s priority, and Catherine has not been the warm, supportive font of affection that she can be.

 _This should not be as difficult as it is_. Catherine thinks, feeling tired to the bone. _I loved Arthur before. Why is it so difficult this time?_

Because no candle can compare to the sun. Harry and Arthur are so different, but that feature has not changed. Harry is capricious, moody, temperamental. But he is also generous, passionate, caring, and intelligent. Arthur does not have his lust for life, and thus cannot inspire others the way Harry can.

“A hunt is precisely what is needed to reduce all the tension the court has been under. It will only last two days. Father has ensured that there will be patrols around the area. Edmund has no support within this area Catherine. Don’t be paranoid like Grandmother.”

Catherine flinches, but controls herself in the next moment. “I’m not.”

“You like hunting, don’t you?” Maggie interjects, smiling brightly. “It will be a good adventure for you and Arthur. And Harry and Mistress Boleyn are sure to give you good competition.”

 _On that,_ Catherine thought sardonically. _We can both agree_

 

\---

 

“I am told that it was you that introduced the Duke of York to using falcons in hunting, Your Highness.” Anne Boleyn’s voice is beautiful, but never has a sound been so unwelcome to Catherine’s ears.

 _Screeching harpies would be preferable_ She thinks grimly, but answers.

“I have a great love of hawking and falcons, Mistress. Harry and I often hunt with Arthur. It seemed natural to bring hawks. I’m glad he enjoys the addition.”

“Enjoys it? I daresay I have not seen him without a hawk or falcon during any of the hunts I’ve been on.”

“Then I am doubly happy.”

“I would have come up with the idea on my own.” Harry interjects, trotting up to the them. His smile is cool, but his eyes burn into Catherine’s. She feels a blush coming, curses her fair complexion and looks away.

“Perhaps not, little brother. Not every grand idea occurs to you despite you saying so.” Arthur interjects, also coming up, smiling at Anne. She smiles back, while Harry and Catherine glance at each other, then glance away.

 _This_. They both think simultaneously, _is going to be a long hunt_

And unknown to the hunting party, Edmund De La Pole’s assassins move steadily on their location, avoiding the patrols along the way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So quick thing- thank you everyone for the comments, and a few updates with regards to this story:
> 
> If you LOVE Anne Boleyn/Henry VIII and hate him with everyone else, this is NOT the story for you. The tags and my previous comments have made this clear. Endgame is Catherine/Henry VIII. There are a LOT of good Anne/Henry stories out there- please read them instead. This Henry is not a good person, doesn't have honorable intentions for Anne and has his eye on two things- Catherine and the throne. 
> 
> I appreciate constructive crit, but that's the only crit I like, so please focus on that when you are commenting on the story.


	7. Why let one more torment impede us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Catherine's feelings come to light, yet not by talking to each other. Oviedo and Anne seek to help themselves, and end up helping Harry instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Princess is not mine. If Charlotte Hope and Ruairi O'Connor choose to star in a Netflix special, I'm happy to write for that!

The day of the first hunt went well, with Harry and Catherine bagging the highest number of prey. Both were familiar with hawking and used the birds to track and capture their quarry. Anne was third and Arthur killed very few, being queasy with the actual killing. Catherine smiled at him, softening at the reminder of the tender heart the Prince of Wales had. Perhaps not the best for a King, but perhaps fine for a husband.

Harry scoffed under his breath and grinned devilishly at the glare Catherine shot him. Anne looked between the two, eyebrows raised in question. The stand off was interrupted by their escort entering the clearing, and Catherine shook her head at Lina’s questioning mien.

“Perhaps we should retire to our tents and change.” Anne suggested, frowning at the light splatter of blood on Catherine’s skirt. The princess shot the other woman a cool look. “Do you think the blood bothers me, Mistress?” She asked. “Pray remember that I have traveled through battlefields with my parent’s. And there the blood on my skirts was of men, not animals.” Anne flushed lightly, looking even more fetching and Catherine’s eyes narrowed at Harry’s smirk at the corner of her eye. Her responses to him were far more reactionary that she would like, and Catherine needed a few moments alone to master herself.

“Mistress Boleyn is right.” Arthur agreed, “There is no need to remain filthy now that today’s hunting is over.” Catherine signed, but nodded, gesturing at Lina to come with her to her tent. She walked towards the pavilion, aware of Harry’s eyes burning into her back.

 

 --

“Your Highness, you must take care.” Harry halted Charlie at Lady’s Lina’s voice. Both she and Catherine were by the side of the lake, watching Catherine’s clothes dry. Harry narrowed his eyes, watching Catherine’s lithe form pace. She was wearing a blue dress, with no shoulders, looking ready to slip to bed. The sight of her red hair brushing her bare shoulders, stirred his arousal, and Harry frowned, angry at himself for his continued reactions to her. Anne Boleyn was a wonderful distraction, but she did not work all the time. Today’s hunt, along with watching Catherine now, made Harry long to just push her down on the soft grass and have his way with her. He would transport her to heights that his brother had never reached. They would worship each other as they had promised so many times. And after making love, they would look upon the stars and discuss astronomy, as they had in their letters. Catherine was interested in the movement of the planets and was one of the two people Harry could discuss the issue with without tedium. He missed their conversation more than he could say.

 _Enough._ He thought angrily to himself. _She is barren Harry. A King cannot marry a barren princess. Especially not the King of a fledgling dynasty. So what if she is likely the love of your life? King’s don’t have the luxury of marrying the one’s they love._

“Why must I take care? Who is Mistress Boleyn to comment on the state of my clothes? I’m the Princess of Aragon and Castille and who is she? Nothing! Nada!”

Harry couldn’t help but grin at the ire in Catherine’s voice. Jealously was a look that suited her.

“I do not speak of Mistress Boleyn.” In contrast with her mistress, Lina’s voice was calm. “I speak of your conduct with Prince Arthur and Prince Harry.”

“Lina…”

“I know you do not love Prince Arthur, my Princess. But your infatuation with Prince Harry –“

“You think its just infatuation? That I think him Lancelot and myself Guinevere? Lina, do I seem that foolish to you?”

“Not foolish, but, in matters of the heart…”

“I’m blinded by his good looks and charm is that it? I can’t possibly know the person?”

“He fooled you with those letters –!”

“Enough!” Catherine snapped, turning and pinning her lady with her eyes. “I know my duty Lina! Just because I’m in love with Harry doesn’t mean I have forgotten that I am Princess of Wales!”

“My Princess…” Lina’s voice trailed off. At his side, Charlie gasped softly, clutching Harry’s wrist. Harry’s head spun, elation and despair swirling equally within him.

“I _know_ him Lina.” Catherine’s voice was despairing. “I do not love him for the façade he shows to the world. Is not love the intertwining of two souls? You think I would give my heart without knowing the depth of the man I give it to?”

“Oh Catherine…”

“From the moment I wrote back to him. From the moment I saw him. From the moment I opened my eyes that first night –“ Catherine halted, than spoke again. “I was Harry’s, not Arthurs. I love him, and I hate myself for it.” She walked farther, stumbling, and Harry sagged by the tree, Charlie holding him up desperately. “I hate us both. When Anne Boleyn came to court, no, even before Anne Boleyn came, I prayed that my love could be unlearned. But it could not be. Because I don’t just love Harry for his strengths- his love of learning, his intelligence, his charm, his handsomeness, his physicality, his ferocity” Harry’s heart thudded as Catherine listed those qualities. Without pausing, gasping out the words as if they would tear her apart if she didn’t, Catherine continued. “I love his flaws, his weaknesses. His impatience, his selfishness, his greed. His lies, his petulance. His flaws and strengths make Harry, Harry. I exalt in them.”

“Oh Catherine.” Lina’s gave a moan of despair. Catherine laughed, tears now streaming down her cheeks. Harry longed to go comfort her, to hold her in his arms. The strength of her feelings humbled him.

“I hate myself.” Catherine rasped out. “Harry has reduced me to a whore in my heart and in God’s eyes.”

“No.” Lina’s voice was firm. “So long as you do nothing, you are pure.”

Catherine’s returning laugh was grim. “I could bathe myself in Holy Water and emerge and in my heart I know that my purity would be a lie. My soul is tainted Lina.  But I will do my duty. I always do my duty. She is cold and hard and harsh, but I always follow her.”

“Please come away, Your Highness.” Lina urged, walking towards her mistress. Catherine was sagging, clearly tired. “Come away and we will get you some wine and food. The exhaustion has made you forget yourself.”

Harry watched as Catherine mastered herself, controlling her emotions, arranging her face into a mask. “You are right. Forgive me, my friend.”

The footsteps faded and Harry slumped down. Charlie sat next to him and exhaled.

“Bones and Blood of Christ.”

“Yes, Charlie.” Harry replied dryly. “Well said.”

“Well you don’t return the feelings the same way do you?” Charlie’s voice was desperate. “You don’t. Harry it’s madness.”

“I love her.” Harry said simply. “You know, even though I’ve tried, for the past few months, I haven’t laid with anyone? I kissed Catherine once and that was enough. If only I had not touched her. For when I did, I realized the agony I face in her absence, the desperation of my want. Nothing alleviates my soul. Certainly not attempts towards pleasures of the flesh. Including Anne and Mary Boleyn. I’ve tried, but I always stop.”

“Harry…”

“Love in the stories and poems…its so pretty Charlie. But what I feel…it stings, it festers like an infected wound. Why aren’t there any pretty words about how it consumes you pitilessly? So much so that you listen to your grandmother tear apart your dreams and dream of tearing down the world so it can echo your pain? I was faithless before I witnessed her. I thought I knew desire, but Catherine made me learn true passion.”

“Jesu Harry.”

“Even now,” Harry gritted his teeth, “Even now I think, if I can only have her in brief moments it will be enough. I cannot marry her, but I might be content to be a stolen secret within the palace walls. Not the story I imagined, but for Catherine I would try.”

“Oh my Prince.” Charlie touched his shoulder and Harry shuddered, pulling away. “Forgive me that I did not understand the depth of your feelings.”

“It is my greatest sorrow that Catherine is barren and not a maid. Otherwise, I would fight even the Pope to marry her. Why did she lay with Arthur?” He asked, turning to his friend desperately. “If she loved me as she says, as desperately as she says, why did she lay with Arthur? Why did God make her barren?”

Charlie hesitated, then put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He seemed to struggle with some great secret before sighing. “God will damn me for this, but you are my friend and my Prince.”

“Charlie…”

“Catherine did not lay with Arthur.” Charlie said in a rush, words tumbling out. Harry started in surprise. “I heard Lady Margaret and your father speaking. It seemed the physician said that the fault lay with Arthur. And even then, he had not touched her as a husband before the sweat came.”

“They were wed for five months…”

Charlie shrugged. “You had your suspicious remember?” “I had not hoped.” Harry paused. “So Catherine is a virgin and not barren.”

“As far as Lady Margaret knows, Arthur _is_ impotent. I heard nothing about Catherine. But Harry, Arthur is young. He will likely live a long life. Even if you are King, Catherine will likely be past her childbearing years. It is folly to want to marry her.“

“Enough Charlie.” Harry snapped. “You are a true friend, but you will cease to give me advice on this matter.”  


The other man fell silent. Harry sat still for a few moments, then stood up and began walking back to his tent. Charlie paused, then followed.

 

\--

 

“My Prince, forgive me for my impertinence but I needed to see you before I retired.” Anne smiled. Harry paused, then continued filling the wine. He turned to her, and Anne concealed her startle. The Duke of York’s face was still as a statue, eyes regarding her coolly and calmly. It was a rare look on those animated features, and they caused Anne some disquiet. If this was the look he had given Mary at the end of their tryst, no wonder she had said nothing to Anne, even after intense questioning.

“Is there anything in particular you wish to say, Mistress?”

“I only wished to give this tract to Your Grace.” Anne pressed the document in the Duke’s hand, watching as he started disinterestedly at the cover. “While I am a true Catholic.” _A lie_ “I think some ideas of Luther’s….manifesto are….”

“These are heresies, Mistress.” Harry’s voice cooled further. Anne took a deep breath, but plunged ahead. Switching tracks on what to say, she spoke.

“Of course, Your Grace. But is it not our duty as good Christians to understand heresy so we may better counter it? For example, Luthur notes that its Kings, not Popes who should be supreme authorities in religion –“

“He what?”

“Yes, Your Grace, it is most unseemly. To say that the Pope has no bearing on religion…”

“On any aspect of our faith, Mistress Boleyn? Including…marriage?”

“Oh yes, Your Grace. In all aspects of our faith. The King reigns supreme, an earthly and heavenly ruler.”

“How…sacrilegious.” Harry’s eyes flashed at the document. “I think I shall take your advice, Mistress. I must read this to fully understand…what to counter.”

Anne bowed. “I shall leave you to it Your Grace.”

Harry waved her away and as she left, Anne turned. The Prince was sitting on a chair, going through the document, eyes focused and intent. She smiled, walking out of the tent. As Anne left, Harry looked up. The Spanish bowman had entered the tent and was looking at him nervously.

“My Lord.” The man said, bowing lowly. “I have some news you might find of interest.”

“Tell me.”

Oviedo exited the tent, filled with excitement at his and Lina’s future. But a part of him felt fear, as if he had consorted with the devil for a brief moment, but come out intact.

Inside, Harry smirked slowly.

_God does provide guidance as needed. Providence smiles upon me._

In her tent, Catherine shuddered inexplicably. It felt as if someone had plucked a string in her soul, causing her to vibrate in the night.

 _Harry?_ She thought confused.

 _Catherine._ Harry thought in his tent, deep in his reading. _Struggle all your want, querida. God is showing me the way._

_England is mine._

_And so are you._

 


	8. Truth is the fruit of a bitter tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine and Harry finally talk (argue) and clear the air (no they don't, but baby steps)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Princess = not mine. Screenplay in the works for something for Ruairi and Charlotte? Check.

“I would like to speak with you.” The second day of the hunt had dawned bright and fair. Catherine was tired, and her head ached from the sleepless night. Crying into the pillow had not helped either.

“I don’t think we have anything to speak about Harry.” She said coldly, making her way deeper into the forest. Sighing angrily and motioning Charlie to keep Lina away, Harry went after her.

“You are wrong, Catherine. There are a few matters we need to speak of.”

Catherine gritted her teeth and tried to hurry deeper into the woods, away from her brother in law. _What do you think he will tell you? He will tell you that he is in love with Anne Boleyn. He will tell you that he intends to marry her and would love your help in persuading the family._

Why couldn’t she be indifferent to Harry? The past few months, watching him and Anne Boleyn had been exhausting. Catherine knew it would hurt, but every time their happiness was struck home, it was never any less painful than it had been in the first life.

She didn’t want to hear Harry’s confession of love. Catherine thought she had done the best she could with regards to managing her attraction to Harry in this life, but she could bear to hear his love for Anne Boleyn. It would break her.

“Leave me be!” She snapped. “I have no desire to hear of your affection for Mistress Anne!”

“Catherine!” Harry grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Do you think I am about to tell you that I love Anne Boleyn?”

She lifted her chin in challenge. “Well, aren’t you?”

Harry sighed. “Catherine…do you know when I wrote those letters to you in Spain? At first, it was just a game. I wanted to hurt Arthur. I didn’t think about the girl I was writing to at all. But then…as the letters continued, as I grew to know you everything changed. Sense, wisdom, brilliance…you have all of them in equal measure. And when I met you…in addition to have a wonderous mind, you are a vision. Your eyes are the color of the deep sea. Your mouth is a marvel. Your skin is like a mother of pearl. I looked and looked until I realized I couldn’t look away.”

Catherine’s breath caught as Harry stepped closer. “Don’t come nearer.” She whispered, but he continued, eyes intense.

“Catherine. For years, I despaired for finding my equal. I fucked women just for the novelty of being with someone new. And then even that became dull. Do you know how horrendous it is to be in a room and know you are the most intelligent person there? And that people constantly underestimate you? You do, don’t you?”

She did. She was a woman. She was a foreigner. And yet, Catherine knew and understood more about England and its motivations that most of its lords.

Even better than Arthur, the would be King.

But England was not ready for “overly-intelligent” women. One only had to look at Margaret Beaufort, who should have been a ruler, to know that.

“Yes.” Catherine replied softly.

“It is very lonely isn’t it?”

She nodded, a tear streaming down her face. Harry caught it, wiping the skin tenderly. Her breath caught as he came closer. Catherine didn’t struggle as Harry pulled her in an embrace.

“I love you.” He whispered. “I know you don’t believe me, but its true. You are the other half of my soul.”

At that, she wrenched herself away. “You are a wordsmith.” Catherine replied shakily. “You bend words to your whim. And you are most cruel when you are most generous. Your love is…your love is not constant Harry!”

“And how do you know that? What have I done to make you think that?”

“Do you jest?!” Catherine cried, forcibly lowering her voice in the next moment. Flashes of her previous life, of Bessie Blount, of Mary and Anne Boleyn flashed through her mind. The subtle, then outright humiliations. The plays, the poems, everything that had been used to make her a mockery. Her darling Mary. Everything went through Catherine’s head in that moment. She forgot her resolve to forgive.

“More than any man you are incapable of fidelity.” She told him coldly, eyes flashing in a rage. “That would not bother me, but you – A King can play with love but should be capable of respecting his wife. You will never do that! Never!”

“Where do you find the stomach for these accusations?” Harry’s anger rose as Catherine turned, clenching her fists. He spun her around again, digging his fingers into her arms. “Where have I given you any indication of these deeds you put on my head?”

“Let go of me!”

“No! Not until you tell me where I have made such a poor accounting of myself!”

“I order you to let me go!”

“Order?!”

“You want to know? When you moved from me to Anne Boleyn in a moment! One moment you looked upon me as if I was the sun, and when she came into court I was in the shadow!”

“You were- are- my brother’s wife, Catherine! I only wished to –!”

“Don’t make excuses!” She cried. Harry gritted his teeth, shaking her lightly. Catherine attempted to get away, but he only held tighter.

“You are my brother’s wife!” He hissed. “Are you angry at me for attempting to move on once that reality became clear?”

“You are a liar.” Catherine responded heatedly. “It wasn’t until Anne Boleyn came to court that you ‘moved on’”

_Yes,_ Harry thought, half-wretched, _it was only after Charlie told me you weren’t barren and a virgin that I have made this attempt. Only after you bowman told me… Previously…previously I made attempt to discard my love multiple times._

_She isn’t right, but she isn’t wholly wrong either._

“Catherine…”

“I would have forgiven you anything.” Her whisper is miserable. “Anything Harry. But you betrayed my trust. Again and again you betrayed it. I can’t trust you anymore. Not nearly enough for what you are asking of me.”

Harry finally let her go, taking a step backwards. “What can I do to restore your trust in me?”

Catherine laughed lightly. “Listen to yourself. We are discussing an affair between brother and sister in the eyes of the church. How can we even bear this sin?”

“We bear it because it is not a sin.” Harry replied impatiently. “You loved me before Arthur. Where is the sin? Love exalts us into God’s arms- it is his greatest gift to us. It leaves everything else in the shadow.”

“I will not believe in your silver tongue again!”

“Woman what madness do you speak? Again, you say. _I have not betrayed you- I love you!_ ” He thundered.

Catherine was silent for a moment, then laughed ruefully. “Do you know the limit of love? It starts as a yearning, longing which is the foundation of a bond. Trust is added to make bedrock. Trust is the highest form of worship- do we not trust God? I want all that. I want…and I want passion, passion which is akin to madness. Passion which goes beyond death.”

_I want what you gave Anne Boleyn._

Harry was quiet.

“Passion akin to madness?” He mused. Smiling darkly, he made to respond.

The screams ensured Catherine did not hear his answer.

“Move!” Harry shouted, pushing her out of the way. As they ran through the clearing, they fell behind trees, looking to see what was causing the screaming. Making their way to the open, they stopped at the sight of the dead Tudor guards, and the fighting that had broken out.

“What is happening?” Catherine cried. Without waiting for a response, she took a sword from a dead guard, entering the fray.

“Catherine!” Harry shouted, following her. He saw Arthur being defended at the side, with Anne cowering behind him.

Harry cursed as he saw Catherine parry, slashing a man’s torso as she spun to the next attacker. He noted that the assailants seemed reluctant to participate, but as Catherine wounded more and more, they began to become more aggressive. Swearing, he moved to help her, engaging another as the attacker moved behind Catherine. Thrusting his sword into the man, Harry moved to the next, moving back to back with Catherine as they fought. They managed to anticipate each other’s moves, and slowly they gained the advantage. At their side, Oviedo’s bow twanged, and Charles Brandon’s sword moved almost as fast.

The other Tudor guards, recovering, moved to attack as well. The assaulters, sensing this bout was lost, melted into the trees.

Harry turned, eyes moving over Catherine, touching her arm and cheek, making sure she wasn’t injured. Arthur hurried over, coughing lightly. Catherine moved towards her husband, impatiently shaking Harry’s hand off. Anne, coming over as well, paused at Harry’s thunderous scowl, but in the end walked towards him.  But Harry stepped away, walking towards his brother. Anne looked at the Duke’s back, stunned at his sudden coldness. No one saw Lina’s quick glance to Catherine, who shook her head slightly in response to her handmaiden’s raised brow.

“Are you all right?” Catherine asked Arthur gently. Arthur coughed, nodding.

“A cold, I think.” He replied. “It was hard to catch my breath. I was no use when they attacked.”

“Don’t be foolish.” Harry said briskly. “As Prince of Wales you cannot put yourself in unneeded danger. It is my duty as your brother and as Duke of York to protect you.”

“Harry is right.” Catherine agreed. “Your life is paramount.”

Arthur smiled reluctantly. “I will listen to both my brother and my wife. Forgive me for being so despondent.”

Anne frowned lightly. “But who were these men?”

One of the guards stood up, having examined the corpses lying on the ground. “They bear no markings Sire. We cannot be sure who sent them. They look English but beyond that…”

“It seems strange, but they must be somewhat local.” Oviedo agreed. “Otherwise they would not have been able to evade the King’s patrols.”

“Well, what we do know is that there are more of them out there.” Harry said, wiping his sword on the ground and sheathing it. He gently took Catherine’s sword from her, handing it to one of the guards.

“We must head back to the palace as soon as we can.” Anne said anxiously. “Many of our guards are also dead, we are more vulnerable now.”

“I agree.” Harry said. “As such, we must go in different directions.”

“What?” Arthur cried. “What are you saying?”

“Your Grace, I’m not sure if that is a good idea.” Oviedo said hesitantly. By his side, Lina nodded.

“Think Arthur.” His brother impatiently replied. “Mistress Anne is correct. There are more of them out there and less guards. I can take your cloak and ride in one direction towards the palace with a few guards. Before Catherine and I came on the scene they seemed more focused towards you. I’m sure if they catch up to me, they’ll leave me seeing that I’m the Duke of York.”

“Harry that’s absurd!” Arthur protested.

“It makes sense.” Catherine said suddenly. “We must get to the palace as soon as possible. A distraction will serve the purpose.”

Before Harry could shoot her a bitter grin, she added. “Which is why I must go with Harry and Anne with Arthur.” At this Harry couldn’t help but look at her, surprised. Lina and Oviedo exchanged a quick, but worried, look at the declaration.

“What?” This time, it was Anne’s voice which was raised. A quick glance from Harry and she lowered it quickly. “But why?”

“The Prince of Wales would not be traveling without his wife.” Catherine replied quietly, taking Arthur’s cloak and handing it to Harry. The two stared at each other a moment, causing Arthur to frown. Harry took the cloth from her hand, pulling his own off and giving it to his brother.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked Catherine. She nodded, moving towards the horses. Lina followed her hurriedly, whispering to her mistress before Catherine hushed her. Oviedo stepped towards Harry, taking his crossbow and moving towards harnessing a new horse.

 Anne came close to Harry, seeking to draw his hand into hers. But he sidestepped her, watching her coolly again.

“Your Grace,” Anne began, keeping the fear from her voice- how had she lost her hold on him so quickly? “Forgive me, have I earned your ire in some way? If this is about the document –“

“No, Mistress Anne.” Harry interrupted. “I simply do not think this is the time for love play.”

Anne pulled back, stung by his rebuke. “I only wished to ask you to be safe, Your Grace.” She replied quietly. Harry took a deep breath, smiling at her.

“My apologies, Anne.” He said gently. “I am in a bit of a strop, what with all these strange men trying to kill Arthur. Even worse, it proves my Father right about De La Pole, and being beaten by my father is something I cannot stand. Forgive me?”

Anne giggled softly. Harry raised his eyes to see Catherine frown at the sound, even as she swung up her saddle.

“You need not ever ask for forgiveness Your Grace. You are too charming to earn anyone’s ire for long.”

_My charm is what has landed me in trouble. Now I must seek a way to make Catherine understand the depth of my feelings for her._

_Passion that passes into madness – that is what she wants. But what does that mean?_

_I must understand what she wants. Only then will I finally be able to have her in my arms._

_My Spanish Princess. I’ll make you see, Catherine._

_I w **ill** make you see the truth._

Mind made up, Harry smiled one last time. “Goodbye Anne.” He moved towards the horses, where Catherine was fussing over her saddle, leaning down and saying goodbye to Arthur.

“Don’t worry brother.” Harry said, moving towards his horse. “I promise that I will take care of Catherine.”

Arthur frowned at the promise in his voice, but Harry was more interested in Catherine’s reactions. He could see from the minute trembling of her form that he was affecting her.

_You know the truth between you and I_ He thought. _And you fight it with every breath. You follow that cold mistress, Duty, wallowing in thorns and lying to yourself that they are roses._

_But you forget that you named me El Rey._

_I will stand triumphant._

_With you by my side._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit late. The next few might also be as I'm slammed with traveling. Sorry and thanks for everyone's patience and to my commenters!


	9. Be with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment we've all be waiting for- but not as much as Harry!

Chapter 8

It was only a few hours into the ride that the sound of additional horses alerted Harry, Catherine and their entourage that they were being followed.

“The distraction worked.” Harry told Catherine as they slowed down, getting ready to fight.

“We should ride ahead.” She told him, dismounting just the same. “What if there are too many?”

“We can’t ride ahead, they know this place better than we do.”

“Harry…”

“Prepare men!” He called out. Turning to Lina, Harry jerked his chin.  “Take your mistress and hide.”

“I am Catherine of Aragon and Castile.” Catherine told him evenly, pulling a sword from her horse’s saddle. “I am not to be told what to do. I fight as well as any man as you know, and I will not leave you here.”

Harry grinned. “Why, Catherine, I’m being to think you like me after all.”

“That has always been the issue.” He heard her mutter under her breath and couldn’t help but widen his smirk.

Then the assassins burst from the trees, and yelling the Tudor contingent charged forward.

\---

“Harry?!” Catherine cried as she stumbled through the thicket. “Harry where are you?” She wiped blood of her cheek, heart racing as she searched for that beloved form.

“ _Harry!_ ”

“I’m here.” Catherine spun around and Harry walked into the clearing, frowning as he saw her clutching his bloodied cloak. He cursed, racing towards her, catching her cheek and sighing in relief as the blood came off.

“I thought you had been injured.” He breathed. A slap snapped his head to the side.

“ _What did you think you were doing?_ ” Catherine yelled. Forcibly she lowered her voice Harry turned, an ugly scowl marring his features. She made to slap him again but he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t.” He said shortly. “Even you I will not allow to hurt me more than once.”

“ _I thought you were dead!”_

“You are smarter than that, Catherine.”

She wrenched her hand away, turning, panting. Harry turned her back, but she pushed him away again.

“You make me forget how to think.” Catherine panted, running her hands through her hair. “I saw the bloody cloak and raced after you. I don’t even know where the others are. And like a madwoman…this cannot go on. What is between us…we must resolve it here and now.”

“What do you want me to say?” Harry asked, frustrated.

“I want you to say that this can be a courtly love.” Catherine replied. “That it can be noble and not…tainted by physical desire. That we can ascend over our impulses.”

“I won’t.” Harry’s voice brooked no arguments. “What we have is noble and pure. It is the meeting of two like minds and souls. But I never made the claim to be noble and pure and I won’t lie to you about such a thing. I want you. In every way imaginable. And you want me. We can lie to others, but I won’t allow us to lie to ourselves.”

Silence reined in the clearing for a few moments before he spoke again. “That is what is in my heart. What say you, Catherine of Aragon and Castile?”

“You foolish, stubborn, man. You have damned us.” Catherine’s voice trembled. “I am spent. I cannot fight this anymore, Harry. I acted without intent, but my actions echo my heart.” She took a breath, then continued, determined.  “I’m yours if you wish.”

One dizzying moment passed. Harry linked, stunned, at Catherine. Catherine- prized and envied since her birth, daughter of great monarchs, a shining jewel of Spain. The princess who hundreds of suitors had paid court to before she was even a year old. This was the woman who was offering herself to Harry, saying that Harry was worthy of her.

That Harry deserved to have her.

And Harry wanted to have her.

So he did.

Dropping his cloak to the floor, he closed the final distance between them.

They fell into each other’s arms, kissing each other with abandon. She threaded her hands through his hair, trying to melt into him. Harry pulled her closer, holding onto Catherine as if she was the only thing anchoring him to the world.

Catherine moaned, head beginning to beat faster and faster. All thoughts of Arthur, of guilt fled from her mind. She wanted to be completely consumed by Harry.

His hands quickly removed her clothing, and she laughed as he wrestled with her corset.

“Not enough practice?” Catherine joked as Harry finally managed to remove the offending garment. Her laugh trailed off into a moan as he latched onto her breast. Harry greedily devoured her breasts as though he were a starving man, ignoring how Catherine’s fingers dug into his hair.

Both sank to the ground, Harry moving from her breast to her abdomen. Catherine let out a laugh as his lips tickled her sensitive stomach. Her moans consumed her laughter as Harry went lower, brushing his tongue against her clit lightly. It was his turn to laugh as she arched against him, desperately seeking his mouth.

“Easy, easy.” Harry soothed her, belying his words as he slid a finger inside her, slowing moving it in and out. Frustrating and exciting, the combination of familiar actions with a new, virgin body, were driving Catherine slowly mad.

“Don’t treat me like one of your strumpets.” She told Harry sternly, clamping her thighs around his head. “I’m not a lily-livered maid that you are dominating.”

“No, you are a conqueror yourself.” He murmured back, ducking back and guiding her into ecstasy with his fingers and mouth.

Catherine writhed and moaned, sparks of pleasure vibrating through her. She bought her knees together, overwhelmed by the familiar feelings coming through all at once.

“Stop that.” Harry growled, lightly smacking the side of her thigh for interrupting him. He placed his hands on her knees, spreading them wide before bringing his mouth back to her clit, sucking on it urgently. Catherine fisted her hands on the ground, dirt digging into her nails, insides coiling up as they prepared for sensations she had never felt before in this life.

“Harry,” She whispered, heading falling back, “Please, please…”

“Please what?” He asked, pulling back, lips shiny with her juices. Harry kept one hand on her knee, ensuring she wouldn’t clamp down again. He slid two fingers into her center, pumping them in slowly, brushing her insides lightly as she squirmed in impatience.

“Please what Catherine?” He asked again when she took too long to answer.

“Please don’t stop.”

Harry grinned, lowering his mouth back. He wouldn’t stop. Not now. Harry wanted Catherine on the edge of pleasure, begging for more. Then he would claim her fully.

Against her plea, he slid up her body. The combination of her nudity and his fully dressed state aroused him greatly.

“Take this off.” Catherine instructed, tugging at his clothes. “I want you as unclothed as I am.”

“You still give me commands?” Harry teased, shedding his clothing as Catherine helped.

“I will never stop giving commands.” She replied imperiously, though the flush spread down her breasts. He couldn’t help but swoop in again, kissing the trail down her neck to the tops of her breasts. 

“I want you to be insensate with pleasure.” Harry whispered to her. Catherine tugged on his hair, pulling his face closer to hers.

“I want you inside me when that happens.”

“Your wish is my command.”

She helped him disrobe, pulling his clothes impatiently off.

Finally, he pushed into her with no finesse or tenderness. Between his desperate want, and her suffocating need there was no space for anything else. Catherine cried out and Harry hissed. She was very tight despite the wetness. He hardened at the confirmed knowledge that Catherine had been a virgin, that he was her first.

_Her last._ Harry promised to himself.

He pulled out of her slowly, letting her body adjust to the intrusion. Harry sunk back in, moving in increments, waiting for Catherine to overcome the pain. Catherine pulled him closer, ignoring the ache and chasing the flickers of pleasure. Harry groaned at her action, thrusting deep into her inadvertently. The action caused pleasure to shoot upwards, and Catherine arched, moaning. Harry paused, determined that the sound was of pleasure, not pain, then grinned. Buried inside her, he spread her legs wider, holding one of the knees around his hip. Lacing his fingers with hers, he began thrusting deeply but slowly.

Catherine cried out, whimpers echoing through the forest.

“Faster!” She arched her back again, determined to chase that familiar tingling that was spreading outward through her abdomen, threating to drag her under.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Harry grunted back, but picked up the pace, unable to remain slow while feeling her incredible tightness around his length.

“Shut up and go harder!” Catherine moaned back.

“This isn’t the only time, you know.” He whispered, kissing her neck each time he thrust. “I’m going to fuck you so well today, Catherine, that you won’t be able to sit for a week.” A hard shove, a gasped whimper, and he continued. “You won’t be able to think of anything but having my cock buried deep inside you ever again.”

“You arrogant peacock.” Catherine gasped out. “All that talk, and I haven’t even –!”

She cried out as climax ripped through her body. Harry thrust deeper and harder, chasing his own orgasm as Catherine’s rippled almost violently through her. Tossing her head to the side, Catherine gasped as she felt his seed shoot deep into her as he panted, kissing her as a tear fell down her cheek.

_Thank the Lord I am barren._ She thought tiredly. _I must tell Harry, so he does not panic after he realizes what he has done._

Catherine laughed lightly at the thought that in this life her barrenness was a blessing. The Lord enjoyed amusing himself at her expense it seemed.

“What is so amusing?” Harry grumbled half-heartedly, not pulling out, but propping his chin onto her shoulder and grinning up at her.

“Just some realizations.” She whispered back to him, heart bursting at having him again. Catherine pushed him lightly causing him to slip out. Making to get up, aware that this interlude was akin to a dream, and she needed to wake up to reality. Harry pulled her down, looking into her eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He said gently, reaching for her. Catherine moaned softly, her sigh swallowed by his kiss and he slipped into her again.

\----

The second time around Catherine rode him. An accomplished horsewoman, Harry laughed as she straddled him, hair tumbling around her shoulders. He guided her down, groaning as her wet tightness drew him in deeply. Catherine moaned, head falling back as the sensations swept over her again. She had forgotten the way he filled her up but had ached for it all the same. That Catherine got to experience it again…it was a gift that she would treasure.

Harry surged up, kissing her hungrily as he began to thrust harder. Catherine whined, feeling her second release fast approaching. “Faster.” She muttered, locking her legs behind Harry’s waist, pulling him in deeper into her core.

“Catherine.” He gasped. Lacing his fingers with hers, Harry studied the look of dreamy pleasure across her face. He took great satisfaction at the knowledge that he was the only one who had ever pleasured her. Lowering his hand to his clit, Harry strummed the little nub as he thrust harder. Catherine was so close to her release – he could feel it in the flutters around his cock. He could no longer hold back his own climax and wanted her to fall with him. Pulling back, he tugged a hand into her hair, pulling back her head.

“What?” She panted; eyes locked onto his as they circled towards oblivion.

“Just convincing myself that this is real.” Harry said back, eyes boring intensely into hers. A hard brushed her curls away, and an unexpectedly sweet smile crossed Harry’s lips “That we are… _real_.”

He slid into her once again, and Catherine savored the scorching pleasure, every part of her body tingling and throbbing as the heat raced through her. Harry dipped his head, pressing his brow against hers. Catherine could feel the burn in her eyes, the tears that slid down her cheeks. She felt Harry kiss the trail, lips sliding down towards her neck.

“Don’t cry.” He whispered. “We are together. Be happy.”

_I am happy._ Catherine wanted to say. _But I am also miserable._

_Because you aren’t mine._

_Because this is the only time I will have you._

“I want more.” Was all she gasped in reply, and Harry fucked her harder. They pushed until all limits were broken. Harry left bruises wherever he touched, moaning a broken litany of her name as they both came.

Lying back down onto his cloak, they slept, curled into each other’s arms.

_I’m going to hell._ Catherine thought, watching as Harry woke up. He stirred, eyes blinking as they focused on hers.

_But it was worth it._ Catherine smiled at him and Harry smiled back, letting out a sign of relief at her calmness.

_You could be my undoing in this life._ Catherine leaned forward and gave Harry a soft kiss, reveling at the laugh she could feel as he deepened the contact. _But I don’t care._

“When we get back –“ He started.

“I should get an abortive? It is not needed.” Catherine interrupted. Harry blinked at her, puzzled.

“You don’t need to worry, Harry.” She told him, stretching and getting up. “I’m barren.”

Harry paused as he got up, shooting her a quick look. “Are you?” Catherine nodded.

“My physician told me. He said so is Arthur.”

_Grandmother had the Spanish physician lie to her._ Harry thought, irked. _She knew the issue was with Arthur and lied to both Catherine and I. And for what? Tudor pride? Fear? She really has let her dislike of Catherine rob her of reason._

“So you need not worry.” Catherine’s voice broke into his musings. “I promise you this.” She continued, cupping his face in her palms. “I will never be a hinderance when you become King. You and Anne will be glorious together, I know.”  


“Catherine –“

“It hurts, I won’t lie about it.” Catherine admitted, blinking back tears. “It feels as though maggots are chewing my soul when I think about you and Anne. But I will be your most faithful subject when you rise to the throne with her as your Queen. I only ask that you allow me to retire to Ludlow when that happens.”

“Cather –“

“And I don’t expect this to continue.” Her words poured out faster. “I’m only glad we had this one chance –“

Harry kissed her, as much to get Catherine to be quiet as because he wanted to. Opening his mouth to expel her doubts, he heard a shout in the distance, coming closer.

“Highness!” Lina’s shout interrupted the moment. Harry cursed, shooting upwards and pulling Catherine up.

“Your Grace!” Charles Brandon’s voice joined her handmaiden’s and Catherine stumbled towards her clothes, pulling on the under shift quickly. Harry quickly put on his pants and shirt, but Catherine was very much not dressed when Lina and Charles stumbled upon them.

Silence reined in the clearing as the two looked at their master and mistress in shock. Then Lina turned around, running back. Catherine could hear her admonishing Oviedo and the other Tudor guards, telling them to head to the other direction and look there. Charles Brandon hurried over, picking up some of Catherine’s clothes and handing them to her, eyes respectfully averted at Harry’s scowl.

“Help her get dressed.” The second prince told Lina as she hurried back. “Be careful, she’s a little bruised.”

“It looks worse than it is.” Catherine assured her appalled handmaiden.

“Yes.” Harry agreed with dark humor, turning as his friend helped him with his clothes. “Your skin discolors too easily, Catalina.”

Lina scoffed, lacing up Catherine’s dress. She stepped to the side, shooting her mistress a concerned look. Catherine thought her handmaiden looked very pale, almost as if she was about to faint. Catherine smiled weakly, tugging the dress. Harry stepped closer, pulling her to him, ignoring Lina and Charles averted gazes. Tugging her into a hug, he bent low, whispering in her ear.

“Wipe your mind of all your doubts. I intend to go past the limit of love – yearning that has trust, trust which changes to worship, and worship which contains madness. Passion which goes beyond death.”

Catherine inhaled sharply, and Harry pressed a hard kiss to her mouth, turning and walking away.

She started at him stunned.

By her side, Lina bit her lip, anger and fear racing through her heart. She remembered the frantic discussion she and Oviedo had had, once they realized both the Duke of York and the Princess of Wales were missing.

_“We need to find them.”_ _Lina said. “Catherine is at her limit as it is. These circumstances might inflame that which should remain in embers.”_

_“What are you saying?” Oviedo asked. The two were conversing in Spanish, trying to not be overheard by the curious guards._

_“I’m saying that Catherine is in love with Harry.” Lina hissed. “And that fighting fuels hungers that should not be sated.”_

_“The Infanta actually loves the hothead?” Oviedo paused, stunned. “You are right, we must find them.” Lina paused, taken aback by the urgency in Oviedo’s voice._

_“What is the matter? What aren’t you telling me?” Oviedo paused, then cursed. He pulled her to the side, waving aside the curious guards._

_“The Infanta’s surgery wasn’t to render her barren. It was to cure her defects. The Reina wants her daughter back once Prince Arthur is dead, ready and able to bear children.”_

_Lina gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”_

_“Because you would have told her!” Oviedo’s eyes showed his agony. “I thought…he would be dead within a year…I wanted us to –“_  
  


_“A year?” Lina paused. “What kind of illness makes you so sure of his early death? Wait, was he poisoned on the Reina’s orders?” She grimaced at Oviedo’s nod. “What else aren’t you telling me?! Tell me now, Oviedo!”_

_“I told one other person about Prince Arthur’s time to live.” Oviedo bowed his head, anguish racing through his body. “He was the only one willing to give me enough money and position to keep you in comfort. All I had to do was keep him appraised of the Prince and Infanta’s household. I told him that his brother was much sicker than he looked, that the physician had said a year but hadn’t told his grandmother. He promised once he would be King he would make me –“_  
  


_Lina stepped back, numbness passing through her body. “You told Prince Harry?” She whispered. “Prince Harry knows Arthur is dying soon?”_

_Oviedo nodded._

_“When did you tell him?”_

_“On this trip.”_

_“Madre de dios, Oviedo.” Lina breathed. “Prince Harry knows his brother is going to die soon. Catherine thinks she is barren. What if they fall together? You have ruined Catherine. You have ruined our princess.”_

_Oviedo bowed his head, clenching his fists in torment._

_Oh Lord protect our Infanta_ Lina prayed now as Harry put Catherine on her horse. He kissed her hand, smiling up at her as she smiled back, uneasiness around her eyes.

_For she in the eye of the storm._

Lina shuddered as she looked at the dark smile on Harry Tudor’s face as he swung upon his own horse. She exchanged a look with Charlie Brandon, grimacing when he shrugged.

_And the devil is dancing with her._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys, but this is likely to continue with sporadic updates. My boss quit, my co-worker quit, and then I quit and started a new job. So between that and my MBA my free time is non-existent. Thanks for understanding and not pelting me with tomatoes!


	10. Surrender Surrender my lonely heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine makes bad choices- as in, she gives into Harry

 

“It was De La Pole then? Are we to sit still as he runs roughshod over all of us?!” Henry shouted. The privy council stayed silent in the face of the King’s anger. Behind their father, Harry and Arthur sat, matching frowns on their faces. Margaret Beaufort sat by the side, face pensive.

“We are lucky that my wife was not injured.” Arthur noted, stapling his fingers together. Harry scoffed under his breath, shooting his brother a look from the corner of his eye.

“We are lucky that the Duke of York was able to save himself and his sister in law.” Margaret interjected. “But we must make sure that De La Pole, and the York threat, is wiped from the land. Now more than ever swift action is needed.”

“I think it shows his desperation.” Harry interjected. “Those mercenaries were sub-par, clearly taken from farmers and trackers nearby. He cannot fund an army, and now his money is running out. De La Pole is in a much more dire position that he wishes for us to realize.”

“Nevertheless, we must not lose our vigilance.” Arthur added. “Catherine’s injuries can be used to ask Spain to send more men to us…”

“And let them think we are incompetent?” Harry asked incredulously. “In case you don’t remember, _brother,_ your marriage was arranged based on the fact that the Tudor claim to the throne was inviolate. Now we must tell them that we need men to deal with a threat? There was already a sizable contingent sent with Catherine –“

“Then we must incorporate them into our forces.” Henry stated. “It’s a good idea.” He nodded to Margaret “The men are going to be loyal to the safety of their Princess’s husband.”

“Catherine will not be happy.” Arthur muttered. Harry nodded, for once in full agreement with his brother.

“Well she’ll have to live with it. We are living with her barrenness, aren’t we?” Margaret grumbled. She didn’t see Arthur’s wince, nor the narrowing of Harry’s eyes. Wolsey and Thomas Boleyn, ever observant, noticed both.

\--------

  
“How could I have been so weak? And still I cannot find my second wind of strength.” Catherine’s buried her face in her hands. Rosa stood to the side, but Lina stepped closer, holding her princess in her arms. Catherine hugged her handmaiden, and Rosa joined the embrace.

“It’s all right Highness.” She whispered. “Passion would not be passion if it did not overwhelm reason.”

Catherine laughed ruefully. “I thought this time I would be stone. Yet I could not hold fast. _Ya basta, ya basta._ And yet I could not…”

“Highness I don’t understand.” Lina whispered.

“A madness has overtaken me, Lina.” Catherine broke from the embrace, brushing off imaginary dust from the dress. “Because I forgot something vital.”

“What did you forget Highness?” Rosa asked.

“That I coveted his love nearly as much as I abhorred his hold on me.”

“His?”

“Neither of you are fools. I speak of Harry, Duke of York.”

Lina exhaled harshly. Catherine, continued, dispassionate. “I cannot explain it fully to you. I wish I could, but I cannot. But Harry has a hold over me. When I awoke that first night, I thought I would be free of him…but I wasn’t. Arthur is a safe harbor for me, I know he is. I should focus on him. He is my husband. I know all this. I know that the destiny of the moth is to be burned no matter how much it loves the flame. And yet I cannot help it. I imagine a life with Harry, a future. It is a blessing that I told the surgeon to render me barren. It has been over a year of resisting him- my strength is spent.”

Lina swallowed, closing her eyes. “You must resist him Highness.”

Catherine turned her head, pinning Lina with one glittering eye. “Why must I Lina? When it is obvious that Harry loves me?”

Lina turned to Rosa. “Why don’t you go get some wine for our Princess?” She suggested gently. “There is something I need to tell her in private.”  
  


“Lina…”

“I do this for your own sake, Rosa.”

“Leave Rosa.” Catherine ordered. Her second handmaiden bowed then hurried out of the room. Lina turned to Catherine, apprehensive.

“I know how to keep secrets within these walls. I can be with Harry if I want.” Her princess informed her. Lina, trembling, held Catherine’s hands.

“Princess.” She breathed. “There is something I must tell you.”

Catherine raised a brow, frowning lightly.

“About what Oviedo overheard from your mother’s physician…regarding your surgery.”

\--

“Another feather in your cap, Your Grace.” Anne greeted Harry as he entered his rooms. He exhaled sharply, throwing Charlie a harsh look. His friend shrugged uncomfortably, walking to the sideboard and pouring some wine.

“Mistress Anne what are you doing here?” Harry asked, taking the wine glass and inhaling it in one gulp. He held it out to be refilled. Anne blinked, looking at him confused. It was a delightful expression, Harry admitted.

 _It really is a pity I met Catherine before I met Anne._ He thought. _For what I feel for Anne is a pale shadow of what I feel for Catherine._

“I merely sought to congratulate your Grace for your success in protecting yourself and the Princess of Wales.” Anne said, then paused and continued. “I also wanted to be sure that Your Grace wasn’t injured…I had been worried since we rode away.”

“I’m fine, Anne.” Harry replied, walking to the chair by the fireplace and dropping into it. He motioned for her to sit as well. “I appreciate your concern, but you must not be so presumptuous as to come to my rooms without leave.”

Anne started, then lowered her eyes. “Your Grace, I had thought…”

“I like you Anne.” Harry said, eyes tracing the table. “I do enjoy your company. But remember that there is a time where audaciousness becomes insolence.”

Anne nodded, standing and curtsying, smiling weakly before leaving.

Charles sighed, sliding into the vacant chair. “Harry…”

“Don’t Charles.” Harry said tersely. “As the future King I cannot marry a Knight’s daughter, you know this. Catherine is the most royal…”

“She’s your brother’s wife!”

“Well hardly, since she hadn’t been touched before me.” Harry grinned wolfishly. “She w _as_ a maiden.”

Charles buried his head into his hands. “Harry.” He said despairingly. “Where do you see this going? Arthur is still alive, and you went ahead and bedded his wife! What do you think will happen if he finds out?!”

“How will he know?” Harry asked. “Will Catherine smile as she sinks a dagger into his pride? Announce to the world that her husband is a cuckold? No, Charlie, I know what I am doing. This is simply a waiting game to make her my wife.”

“Arthur has a long life ahead of him, Harry. And then there is the Church…”

 _Not as long as you think._ Harry thought, sitting back languidly. _And as for the Church…_ His eyes slid to the side, in the bag which held Luthor’s heresies. _Well, if the Pope won’t give me what I want…there are other ways._

_For I am England, and what is best for me is best for England._

_\------_

Lina held Catherine’s hand as she started vacantly out the window.

“So you are saying,” Her mistress said slowly, blinking and waking from her stupor. “that I am fertile. I…am fertile.”

“Yes, Highness.” Lina whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I…I didn’t know.”

“But Oviedo did.”

Lina bowed her head. “Yes.”

“Lina…Lina.” Catherine slowly withdrew her hand, eyes turning hard. “Lina, I will not have in my service a man who is not loyal to me.”

Lina grabbed her hand, desperate. “Please, Highness, please do not send him back. They will kill him!”

“He betrayed me!” Catherine snapped. “I allowed him to court you despite his low birth! I have stalled all the Tudor men being thrown at you despite Margaret Beaufort chastising me at every turn! And he repays me by hiding information that I needed to know!”

Lina fell to her knees. “Highness, you can banish him from your court, but please do not send him back to Spain. Please!”

“Stand up.” Catherine said coldly. “I need you to find me something that will prevent pregnancy. Obtain it for me hastily, and I will make sure Oviedo is not sent back to Spain. He will never serve me again, but he will live. If you cannot do this, Lina, I will send him back in pieces.”

Lina bowed, kissing Catherine’s hand. “I will get it for you Highness.”

“Send Rosa back in. If Prince Harry comes near my chambers you and she must make sure that the door is barred and that someone stays with me if he lingers.”

\----------

 

“Is she feeling ill?” Harry asked, concerned. Rosa began to shake her head, then nodded.

“Yes, the…the guinea fowl didn’t agree with her.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. By his side, Charles slightly rolled his eyes.

“Dinner last night was suckling pig, Lady De Vargas.”

Harry raised a brow at his friend who was watching Catherine’s handmaiden sweat with narrow eyes. The second prince turned to the nervous lady.

“Does Catherine not wish to see her brother in law?” He asked cheerily. “I know she must be a bit put out that Arthur went to Ludlow without her – but she knows my brother’s health is ever delicate. Poor thing, his cough is growing worse.”

“The Princess is simply busy with prayers, Prince Harry.” Lina said, hurrying up to the door. Harry watched her, seeing how she tucked away a small pouch into her sleeves before she spoke. A frown touched his lips before it was wiped away.

“She is sick and now she prays? Perhaps you two should coordinate your stories.” Harry cocked his head to the side, then shrugged. “I will leave for now, but I’ll be back after dinner.” Making to walk away, he stepped closer to Lina.

“Don’t give my spanish princess that immediately, Lady De Cardines.” Harry said, threat soft in his tone. “Otherwise that bowman of yours will have a short stop after a long drop.”

Lina swallowed, then nodded, motioning to Rosa to enter the room before her.

“Do you have it?” Catherine demanded, moving towards her. Lina nodded, uncovering the herb.

“It needs to be soaked a bit before being drunk, Highness.” She said quickly. “We can soak it now, so you can have it with wine after you eat dinner.”

Catherine nodded, and Rosa took the herb, putting it in some water. Biting her lip, the Princess looked at Lina.

“Tell Oviedo he is no longer in my service.” She said softly. “He must leave the castle by nightfall and make his way wherever he chooses. If I see him here again, I will order his immediate execution.”

“Highness –!”

“Lina, enough! Remember your place.”

Lina bowed, anger, understanding, and anguish whirling a storm inside her.

“Yes, my Princess.”

_\---------------_

 

Catherine sighed, sinking into the warm water. Dinner had been a tense affair, and Margaret had badgered her about her delay in leaving for Ludlow. Catherine had promised she would leave in the next few days, all the while feeling Harry’s gaze burning into her. Playing with Mary had been a welcome respite, and she had fled shortly after.

Catherine was still reeling from the news that she had been betrayed. In her first life, there had been so much love and reverence for her in Spain, she hadn’t even fathomed that her orders would not be obeyed.

But Catherine had forgotten that Isabel’s influence was far greater than hers. In this life, she kept making such miscalculations, relying too heavily on what she remembered, and paying less attention to what influenced the same people presently. That is why Oviedo’s decisions had blindsided her. Catherine had known Oviedo was proud and upset that Lina would be getting a dowry. In hindsight, of course he did not tell her she was fertile. Why would he? As far as the bowman knew, Arthur could not perform, so Catherine need not know her surgeon had lied to her. He did not know the burgeoning relationship between her and Harry.

But his decisions had led to her current predicament. And a greater part of her was angry that her time with Harry had been cut so short. How could she go to him now? To have him, and not have him. It was a wound that caused her to lash out. Catherine well remembered that Lina and Oviedo had been there for her after her downfall in the past. But this was a new life, a new present. And Oviedo had proved himself disloyal.

So why did her heart give such a twinge when she thought of Lina’s distraught face? Why did guilt swirl in her breast?

The soft opening of the door broke into her musings.

“I have no desire to speak to you Lina.” Catherine said brusquely. “And the water is warm enough. Leave now.”

“I’m afraid Lady De Cardines had to leave.” Harry’s voice startled her into sitting upright, water sloshing onto the floor. Turning around, she stared stricken at the second prince, as he grinned at the sight of her chest. Catherine immediately immersed herself, which did little and less.

“I’ve already seen all of you.” Harry’s voice had laughter in its undertone. “Really, why are you so shy all of a sudden.”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Catherine hissed back. “What if someone saw you?”

“I’ve known of hidden passages around here since I was a child. No one saw me Catalina. I know well the dangers of what we do.”

“We do nothing.” She replied coldly. “We had one –“

“Two, actually.”

“Mistakes. There will be no repeat of them.”

“And why not?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised, making his way to the tub. Catherine hunched over more, wondering where her handmaidens were. She asked him the question. Harry shrugged in response.

“Lady Rosa is in the company of her chosen groom, the Lord of Rochester. Lady Lina was made to understand that it was in her best interest to not bar the door. She feared I’d make a commotion.”

“What have you done to her?” Catherine whispered.

“Nothing. Merely informed her that I took the Moorish bowman into my service after you so unceremoniously ejected him from yours.” Catherine pulled back as he knelt by the side of the tub, dipping his fingers in the water and stirring languorously.

“How dare you?”

“How dare I? Why not? Your soldiers are going to be absorbed into the Tudor armies anyway.” He smiled at her start. “Oh Arthur didn’t tell you take before he left? I’m not surprised.”

Catherine exhaled. “Be that as it may, you can’t –“

“I can and I have. Now, let us turn from such unpleasant discussions. Why on earth don’t you think we are going to continue this?”

“I’m not…I thought I was barren, but I’m not. So we can’t…”

“And why not?”

“Harry!”

“All you have to do is get the milksop very very drunk.” Harry leaned in, breathing over her lips. Catherine closed her eyes, shuddering at the dart of want that went through her. “And make him think you slept with him. As for if you get pregnant…well, he won’t know will he? That you will bear my child, not his.”

“And if the child is a son? What then, Harry?”

“No one will hold the throne for an infant, Catalina. Not with a full-grown man with a proven war record. That’s why Edward IV’s sons didn’t succeed him. I will still be King. Our son will be King after me.”

“And Arthur will simply let that happen, hmm?”  
  


“You place far too much importance on Arthur, Catherine. We both know who has the iron will in your marriage- it isn’t my rose petal of a brother.”

“Arthur is many things Harry, but he is not as you claim! His sense of duty, of decency far eclipses yours. You are a petulant child, lusting after sweets compared to him. Enough!”

“Yes.” Harry said warningly. “It is enough.” He pulled her from the tub, sputtering.

Catherine stared at him, alarmed. He wanted to claim her right there – or _tear_ her apart for her insult. The lunacy of his thoughts penetrated the haze of fury and Harry halted himself. He unclenched his hands, still trembling, rage and jealousy tangled up in him, pushing away rational thought.

“Do not speak glowligly of my brother to make me lose my mind, Catherine. I know you are upset that you married him. Soon, we will have all our moments in the sun.” Harry’s breath fell over her neck. Catherine shivered, hating herself, hating the effect she allowed him to have. Calming herself, she spoke.

“You really are a wordsmith.” She turned around. Harry was too close, and Catherine tried to rear back, but his arms were suddenly around her, caging her.

 _Is it really a cage though_ , Catherine wondered, _if you do not wish to escape?_

“My words pale in comparison to my muse.” Harry murmured, fingertips of one hand running over her jaw. The other hand left her back, traveling to the front, moving slowly. Catherine jerked back, seeking to escape. Harry simply switched hands, pulling her close again.

“Let me go.” Catherine breathed, trying to escape the hand that was moving towards her soaking center.

“I can feel your wetness.” Harry pressed two fingers to her core. “I can’t wait to sink in Catherine. I’ll open you up, leave you empty, and fill you up again. Until the only thing on your mind is **_me_**.”

Catherine near convulsed the desire is so great. Harry was always a skillful lover using words and hands and mouth to drive her mad. Marshaling her willpower, she finally pushed him away.

“Enough.” Catherine glares. “One mistake does not mean anything Harry. Seek the bed of your Boleyn and leave me be.” In her first life, that was a sentence she would have cut out her tongue before saying. Even in this life she was forcing the words from a throat filled with glass.

“A mistake?” Harry laughed, stepping towards her. Catherine willed herself not to step back. Any weakness, and Harry would take advantage. “The mistake was wedding you to that, that flower petal. As if he has the spine to take you in hand.”  
  


“Take me in hand?” Catherine repeated. “I am an Infanta of Spain, daughter of two great monarchs. My bloodline is pure from all corners of Europe and has none of the ill breed that permeates your veins. Am I an errant child to be disciplined?”

“Your ancestors inherited their crowns.” Harry agreed cheerfully, stepping ever closer. “But English kings have always been conquerors. I emulate my ancestors in that regard- both my father and grandfather.”

“Edmund Tudor?” Catherine scoffed, “That nobody –!”

“Edward IV” Harry interrupted; voice cool.

Catherine laughed, knowing it would infuriate Harry. “A fool whose legacy lasted two years past his death.”

But this was the opening Harry needed. He swept her up, moving towards the bed. Catherine squirmed madly but did not shout. Harry was right. All shouting would do would result in her losing her head.

Harry laid her on the bed and lay by her side, arm casually pinning her to the bed. Catherine bared her teeth at him, struggling to move. But Harry had always been a strong man, and Catherine, being smaller than him was further disadvantaged.

“Edward’s blunder was that he trusted the wrong people.” Harry continued, hand moving downwards as he moved above her. “A mistake Arthur makes every now and then don’t you think?”

His fingers slipped into her as he spoke, aided by her wetness. Catherine moaned, hating herself for loving this, needing this so much.

“Please.” She manages to whisper, trying desperately not to buck into his moving hand. “It was a _mistake_ Harry.”

“You were a virgin Catherine. _I_ took your virginity on that forest floor.” Harry’s voice was savage, and his fingers sped up. Catherine bit her lower lip, trying hard to stifle her moans. “Arthur has a goddess in his bed and he acts the eunuch. God does not mean for you to be with him.”

“You are his brother!”

“I am your _lover_.”

Any response Catherine wanted to make was lost when her orgasm rushed over her. She felt her back arching as the pleasure overtook her, and could hear the whimpers that issued past her throat.

“There.” Harry mutters, kissing her throat. “Was that so hard?”

“Damn you.” Catherine’s heard her voice tear. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you are mine. Because I want to cum inside you, paint your insides so no one could mistake that you are anything but **_mine_**.”

Harry kissed her eyes, one after the other, then moved to her face, ending with her lips. His kisses were as drugging as ever, and Catherine could feel herself clinging as he moved over her. Her hands wrapped around Harry’s biceps in a way that she was not sure that she was pushing him or pulling him closer. Catherine’s fingers flinched, a final attempt at self-control, at being better than _this_ , before they grabbed on and dug into Harry’s skin tightly.

“If I’m yours, then you are mine.” Catherine gave up, cradling his form between her thighs as Harry moved up.

“Our hearts contain the world.” He whispered against her lips, before thrusting in, sinking to the hilt in one smooth stroke. Catherine’s head fell back in delight, and Harry kissed the hollow of her neck.

Catherine opened her eyes, hands grasping Harry’s face as she looked into his eyes.

 _I am a fool_ she realized _a lifetime is not enough to free me from this man. Ten lifetimes aren’t enough. No matter how cruel, how despicable he can be, I love him._

_I love him._

“What do you want?” She asked him, “What do you want?”

Harry bared his teeth, lust and love swirling in those orbs. “I want to stay with you. I want to take care of you. I want you to bear my sons and daughters. I want to make you my Queen.”

He sealed the words with a kiss and begin to thrust in earnest. Catherine closed her eyes and let go.

Outside the door, Lina sank to the group, softly weeping.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE (mushu style). I'm going to do my best to finish this fic, y'all, hopefully before the Spanish Princess premiers. Comment please, it gives me incentive!


	11. One step forward two steps back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine and Harry continue to not be good human beings. Harry finally deals with Anne and a new Spanish ambassador arrives at court

Arthur had been getting sicker. It was becoming more noticeable to the court that the health of the heir was declining. Catherine began spending more time with her husband, concerned as to why his health was sliding so much so quickly. The action had the secondary benefit of helping her avoid Harry. 

Since she had learned for her fertility, Catherine felt terror and elation periodically. The chance of having a child, a living breathing baby in her arms was almost too much temptation. At each moment of weakness, she remembered the fact that Arthur thought she was a virgin, and that any mistake on her part would bring down the fragile rapport they had established. Looking at her husband who was smiling at his cards, Catherine resolved to take Harry’s advice.

She would have to get Arthur very, very, drunk.

 

“Brother, last night I was in Spain.” Arthur boasted, eyes glittering as he looked at his younger sibling. Harry sighed, hefting his ball and tossing it in the air.

“Oh, do tell.” He replied appearance bored. The flash in his eyes belied his interest though.

“We had just finished a game of cards.” Arthur started. “When Catherine’s handmaiden’s bought in some Spanish wine that her mother had sent. My wife started telling me about how the wine was made, about her people and how they cultivated the plants.”

“How fascinating.”

“Let me finish. Usually, we just get on with it- our passion is sublime. But this time I thought- why not indulge? I matched her glass for glass. I felt a little dizzy afterward but was still able to perform my duties.”

“Spanish wine must be truly potent.” Harry drawled. “I didn’t realize it was an aphrodisiac.”

“You are just jealous,” Arthur replied, stung. “That I have Catherine as my wife and you do not.”

“Careful, brother,” Harry warned. “Do you know what you speak?”

“You have always been envious. Because I was to be King. But its more than that now, isn’t it? You envy me, Catherine.”

“I don’t.” Harry’s reply was quick. “I merely pity her. To be pledged to a man who cannot appreciate her wit and mind must be unbearably dull. You think she overshadows you, Arthur. You cannot look beyond her form to the mind within.”

 “It's not only her looks,” Arthur said defensively. “She's noble and good, always thinking of others. I know she snaps at me, but only because Catherine knows I am capable of more. She isn’t capable of harboring ill will. I know she will always do the right thing in the end.”

Harry was speechless. Catherine had shown Arthur nothing of herself in all their time together. 

_ She’s stubborn and prideful.  _ He longed to say.  _ She’s jealous and capricious. She makes you pay for your sins, real and imagined all the same. Catherine is the daughter of Isabel of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon. She doesn’t forget that. She’s vengeful and bloody-minded. A conquistador.  _

_ Yes, she is kind and noble. But her regality is of Kings. Beautiful, and changeable, temperate and not. I can spend a lifetime with Catherine and never understand her. She isn’t Guinevere. In her own way, she is faithful. She isn’t from the songs of chivalry you are so in love with. _

“You have it sorted out then.” He finally said dismissively. “She will do the right thing in the end and love you back. And you will love her because she is good, and sweet, and perfect.”

_ Fool _ . He thought darkly.  _ Arthur, I would not envy you the throne if you could sit on it. You look upon a lioness and mistake it for a lamb. You know nothing of her. No wonder she never opened her heart to you.  _

_ I took her heart.  _ Harry’s thoughts took a triumphant turn.  _ And I took her maidenhead. She moaned for me underneath that canopy and fell apart in my arms. You could never do that brother. She isn’t yours, Flower Petal.  _

_ And like  _ **_hell_ ** _ you’ve slept with her! _

 

“Arthur is strutting around like a proud peacock.” Harry sat beside Catherine at the picnic. She flicked a glance at him, affecting boredom as Arthur and Mary ran around. A frown of concern graced her features as Arthur coughed again, but she sat back as Maggie Pole hurried to the first prince, a cup of water in her hands.

“He has much to be proud of,” Catherine replied evenly.

“Oh really? I must have some Spanish wine myself, I’ve been hearing so much about its remarkable nature.”

“Spain is a place of many wonders.”

“And much knowledge.” Harry agreed. “After all, Oviedo was very forthcoming about the herbs he got from his relatives. Herbs that can…what was it he said…affect how the mind perceives reality.”

Catherine fought the urge to recoil, glaring at Harry instead. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

He caught a curl in his hand, tugged it gently. “At ease,  _ carina _ ,” Harry said gently. “You are merely doing what I asked you to do. Why do you hesitate to tell me the truth?”

“You have never had a conversation you didn’t turn to your advantage.” Catherine hissed back. “To be honest is to ask for a dagger in my heart.”

“Such a lack of trust. Strange, it doesn’t stop you from bedding me. It doesn’t stop you from loving me.” Harry whispered back. Catherine flushed, eyes dropping.

“I am guilty of many misjudgments.” She replied softly. 

“As am I.” Harry admitted, turning to where Anne Boleyn was standing. As she saw his glance, she smiled. Harry looked at Catherine, who was studying Arthur, Mary and Maggie Pole with feigned intensity.

“And now.” He continued gently. “I’m going to go fix some of mine.” Getting up, he looked down at Catherine.

“Soon, I will expect you to do the same.”

\---

Anne.” Harry greeted, walking up to the woman in question. She curtseyed, smiling as he held out his arm. 

“Shall we take a turn?” He continued. Anne nodded, smiling shyly.

“I was very interested in some of Luthor’s arguments,” Harry said, walking slowly around the garden. From the corner of his eye, he could see Catherine had made her way to Arthur’s side. She was holding a paper, Arthur’s poetry no doubt, and smiling softly at the Prince of Wales. Resisting the urge to clench his hands, Harry turned to Anne, waiting for her response.

“Luthor is a heretic,” Anne said quietly. “Yet there are whispers that the Catholic Church goes too far in thinking it can control the Princes on Earth.”

“I have already spoken to Thomas More about the tract. We have agreed to collaborate in a rebuttal.”

Anne smiled, though her lips were pinched for a moment. “I am sure Your Grace will come up with sound arguments.”

“I’m sure we will. Though you must have also engaged in a lively debate when you were in France.”

“Your Grace?”   
“I’ve heard so much of your wit from many in the court who were there with you. Perhaps you should help us write some arguments for Luthor.”

“I dare not Your Grace,” Anne said hurriedly. “For I am only a foolish girl, ill-fitted to argue among such esteemed company.”

Harry laughed. “Perhaps we shall sharpen your skills then. I have invited someone to court who would do well to instruct you.”

“Oh?”

A rustle in the bushes stopped them. Harry paused, smiling at the look on Anne’s face as the new person was revealed. Her face blanched, blood draining from it. The person facing her had a similar reaction, though he could not hide his love-struck look from Harry’s keen eye.

“This is Henry Percy.” He told Anne softly, pulling her ahead, letting Percy take her hand. “I’ve invited him to court for some time. He is the son of the Earl of Northumberland and is proficient at every art, martial and literary. Quite a man, you know.”

“My Lady.” Henry Percy whispered, kissing the proffered hand reverently. “I am ever your humble and obedient servant.”

“You do me too much honor, Sir,” Anne whispered, lips pale. “I am not worthy.”

“Nonsense. Just looking at you both, I can tell you have an old connection even if you have never met” Harry said. Anne turned to look at him, and he knew she understood his game, at long last. “I think you both will get along very well.”

Smiling at Anne’s dazed mien, Harry strode away. Catherine and Arthur had been watching him, and he smiled at both as he came near.

“What was that?” Arthur asked, sipping another cup of water. Harry locked eyes with Catherine.

“Just some cleaning up.” He replied.

The flash of a smile before Catherine turned lighted his heart. Harry laughed as he chased after Mary.

\--

Touring the abbey’s was both a joy and a source of sorrow for Catherine. She loved the reminders of her religion, and how Catholicism was the bedrock of so many. But at the same time, she was not blind to the corruption that permeated the Church. There was a reason Luthor’s reformation had caught on so quickly, a reason people were willing to martyr themselves for this new faith.

_ To trust those who promise they will care for your soul is difficult if the rich can buy a place in heaven.  _ Catherine thinks derisively. Yet, these abbeys were a bedrock for the poor, who depended on their charity to live. When Henry had started ripping apart the Catholic Church, Catherine had often wondered what would happen to those poor souls who depended on the largess of the Church.

_ I never got my answer. I still wonder… _

In this life, Catherine was funding so many charitable institutions she had gotten the nickname “The People’s Princess”. She found is quite funny as peasants greeted her with the title. It was a refreshing change from “That Spanish girl” that Margaret Beaufort was fond of spitting out.

_ No matter what happens in the future, the poorest of England’s subjects will be spared.  _

“God Bless you, Princess.” An old woman said, hands trembling as she clutched at the bread Catherine and her ladies were distributing. “Without you, we’d all starve.”

“Be at peace, old mother,” Catherine replied gently, holding the woman’s hand. “Do not worry about food for your family. I will make sure your village is taken care of.”

“It ain’t just my village, Highness.” The woman replied. “So many villages can’t pay these new taxes. People are starving on the streets. And the King’s man- Dudley, would have us pay taxes for singing songs!”

Catherine frowned. “Dudley has deceived the King.” She said softly. “Prince Arthur and I are doing our best to bring the truth forward. Hold fast.”

“Prince Arthur ain’t doing nothing.” Another man chimed in vehemently. “I hear its Prince Harry that does the arguing and gets walloped for it. That’s a man that helps the commons.”

Catherine frowned. Harry and his father had had increasing arguments regarding the taxes, that was true, but she wondered how the rumors had come so far.

_ Possibly Wolsey’s men spreading the information.  _ She thought wryly.  _ Harry does know how to collect talented people to do his dirty work. _

_ Arthur would tell his father to desist with these taxes, but he is getting sicker and sicker. I spend more time trying to care for him than counter Harry’s moves. _

_ And part of me doesn’t want to.  _ Catherine admitted to herself. It is _  so hard to go against him. Especially now that he has broken with Anne Boleyn. _

It had become obvious to the court that Harry was finished with the Boleyn sisters. While Mary Boleyn was despondent, Anne Boleyn was now being courted by Henry Percy. The court was gossiping about how Harry would go back to her once he saw his prize being taken by another man. Catherine was also waiting. But so far Harry had held fast to her. It made it hard to take the initiative to go behind his back and counter his schemes to undermine Arthur.

“Prince Harry is a prince of the people, just like you are our Princess.” The old woman agreed with the belligerent man. “You two know that you got to help the people, Princess.”

Catherine smiled at the gathered villagers. “The Tudors love you all.” She said softly. “ _ All _ of them do.”

By the frowns around her, she knew that they disagreed.

\--

“A new Spanish ambassador has been sent,” Harry informed Catherine as they walked down the hall together. She held herself stiffly, hands held together. Behind her, Lina kept her face still as Harry leaned towards her mistress.

“I hear he is young and wildly handsome. Half the women in court are already in love with him. I wonder,” His breath washed over Catherine’s ear and she shivered. “if your mother isn’t planning something by sending this handsome ambassador to court.”

_ She’s planning to get her daughter out as soon as Arthur dies.  _ Lina thought grimly.  _ It won’t be long now. His health fails, It’s obvious to all. _

_ All the while Prince Harry circles above. Vulture. Leave Catherine alone! _

Yet Catherine did not desist. She still met Harry. Very, very, occasionally she allowed him to make love to her. Lina could still count on both hands the number of times she had heard Catherine stifle her cries- in her rooms, in Harry’s rooms, and once, memorably, as Lina and Charles Brandon stood guard, in the gardens. Charles Brandon’s eyes had near rolled out of his head, so often did he roll them at the noise. Oviedo was near frantic every time she told him of each encounter.

_ But Catherine is tracking her cycles.  _ Lina soothed herself. S _ he has started taking precautions.  _

_ And she told me he hasn’t…fully made love to her since that time. That they just bring each other to pleasure. _

_ Please let it be enough. _

“My mother isn’t planning anything.” Catherine’s voice was clipped, but Lina could hear the curiosity underneath. “What is the ambassador’s name? He came faster than the letter Mother sent.”

“Eustace Chapuys.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm appreciative of all comments, but here is the thing: this is based on the Spanish Princess, Henry and Catherine aren't good people, and Henry the VIII is in general, a crap human being. If you have issues with any of this, please don't read this fic. I love Constructive Criticism regarding spelling, structure, coherence, tenses etc. But that is all I want to read about.


	12. We all fall down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things happen and Catherine's actions have consequences

Eustace Chapuys had been a great source of comfort for Catherine in her twilight. With him and Thomas More, she had hoped that Harry would see sense. Even as circumstances grew ever dire, both men had been her bulwark of support.

So, it warmed her heart to see her old friend again, younger and more vibrant than ever. Catherine could not help but smile widely at Eustace bowed to the throne.

“You seem overly pleased to see the man.” Harry murmured in her ear. Catherine stifled her smile at the poorly hidden ire in his voice. “Were you previously acquainted?”

“Oh, we are childhood friends.” She jested.

“Liar,” Harry replied quickly. “He was born in Savoy. Chapuys only recently entered Castile’s service.”

Catherine shot him a grin. “Why are you asking me false questions then?”

“I only wanted to see how you would answer. And you lied.” He said heatedly.

Catherine rolled her eyes. “You knew I was jesting, and you don’t like that I jested with you. Calm yourself Harry, and cease acting like a boy. A man does not worry when a woman jokes.”

Margaret Beaufort cleared her throat pointedly and Harry and Catherine stopped talking. Catherine ignored the glare the King’s mother shot her, looking at the Spanish Ambassador again. Chapuys smiled at her, nodding in recognition.

“Princess Catherine.” He grinned. “You are far more beautiful than your portrait. The painter did not lie.” Catherine ducked her head, smiling.

“You flatter me, Ambassador.”

“I only speak the truth, Highness.”

“You have a silver tongue, Chapuys,”  Harry interjected, coming to stand by Catherine. His grin was particularly shark-like as he stared down the Spanish Ambassador. “Honey drips from it.”

Chapuys bowed, face now expressionless.

“I only hope it turns to other members of the court.” Harry continued. “Born English royalty, I mean.”  
  


“I am, as ever, at the service of the Tudor family.” Chapuys' response of measured. He would have to be a fool to be unable to recognize Harry’s dislike. It was to his credit that he was managing the prodding well. “Of course, if Your Grace needs me for anything…”

“Come hunting with me tomorrow.” Harry immediately said. “I always say you can measure a man by the way he hunts.”

Chapuys smiled shrewdly. “I would love that Prince Harry. Perhaps Prince Arthur would join us as well?”

“Arthur’s not feeling well,” Catherine said quickly. By her side, Harry stifled a frown. “He should be resting.”

“My apologies, I did not know the Crown Prince was ill.”

“A response to the changing weather.” Harry jumped in. “My brother can be a bit…well…delicate –“

A hand clap across his shoulder ended the sentence abruptly. Catherine jumped as Henry’s face loomed over Harry’s shoulder.

“There are a few noble-born ladies you should be introducing yourself to, my son.” The King’s false joviality fooled no one. Terse lines were around his eyes as father and son glared at each other. Harry shrugged off the hand and stomped off, not before shooting a quick look to Catherine, who lowered her eyes in response.

“Chapuys.” King Henry’s voice was cheerful. “Come, tell me more about the changes that Ferdinand and Isabel have implemented in their court. I heard they are targeting usury laws now?”

The voices faded as both men stepped away. Catherine stood to the side, staring at them both, pensive.

 _I do not think Arthur has long to live._ She finally admitted to herself.  _Perhaps it is always his fate to die young._

_And when he goes to St. Peter what shall be my fate? Will Harry tire of me by then? Will Mother be willing to take me back?_

_I don’t want to go back. But Harry cannot keep his promises to make me his Queen. It is a boy’s fancy. I must go back._

_I will kiss Harry goodbye and leave my heart. A door will close. But I will endure. I endured the loss of his love before. It killed me, but I am stronger now._

_I will endure._

“Arthur is getting sicker and sicker.” Harry’s voice was agitated as he paced the room. Charles looked at him, feeling nervousness race through his veins.

“I feel the throne getting closer to me Charles.” The tone was dispassionate, but the feverish look in his eyes belied Harry’s true feelings. “I hate it and I love it. Arthur is my brother. I love him. But…”

“But he would have been a weak king,” Charles noted, leaning back in his chair carefully. “England needs a strong ruler at the helm. Arthur would have let the nobles rule him.”

“As my father does now.”

“But…”

“But he is my brother.” Harry grimaced. “I have not forgotten our boyhood where we loved each other without complications of the throne.”

“The Royal family does not have the same luxury of familial love,” Charles noted. “Look only at your grandfather’s generation.”

“The fate of the Yorks shall not be the fate of the Tudors.” Harry’s eyes flashed. “I will never let it be so.”

“So you must marry –“

“Don’t!” Harry snapped. “Again and again you push me towards those insipid women. Plantagenet they may be, but they have no thoughts behind their masks. Empty shells put in front of me.”

“They aren’t married.”

“Soon, neither will be Catherine.”  
Charles closed his eyes, frustrated. “And how do you see marrying your brother’s widow working out?”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Harry bid the intruder enter, and Charles watched as a nondescript man walked into the room. He had a few documents with him, and he bowed low before Harry, but turning and bowing towards Charles.

“Charles, meet Thomas Cromwell.” Harry slapped the man on the shoulder. To his credit, the man did not wince, looking at the Prince attentively. “He is Wolsey’s assistant. And he is going to help me with exactly the problem you outlined.”

Looking at Thomas Cromwell’s expressionless mien, Charles felt a shiver down his spine.

\--

“It would be much easier to hate him, considering how terrible he is,” Catherine complained to Arthur. The prince was tucked under the covers, a fire roaring in the room. Despite the heat, Arthur kept shivering. Catherine felt a trickle of foreboding down her spine. Arthur’s health had fallen rapidly in the past three months, and it felt like the end would come sooner rather than later.

“It would be.” Arthur agreed, chuckling. “But there is something about Harry that makes that impossible.”

Catherine looked at Arthur, raising a brow.

“He’s my brother.” Arthur shrugged. “I’ve always known that he is ambitious, but I never thought that he would kill me for it. In a royal family, what more do you need?”

Catherine, whose mother had disposed of both her infant niece and her twin brother to assume the throne of Castile, conceded the point. Bonds always took a backseat to politics in a royal family.

“I wish…” Arthur continued, coughing. “I wish we had gotten along better. Part of it was me, I admit. I was so jealous of him you see. He was always doted on by mother and grandmother. And I was…well, I was not.”

“Your father doted on you.”

“Father is the King. He loves but at a distance. Mother and grandmother loved Harry and showed it to him. Oh, Aunt Maggie will say he was mollycoddled, and he was but…I wouldn’t have minded a little mollycoddling myself. Aunt Maggie loves me, I know. But…”

Catherine felt a pang in her heart for her lonely husband. Marriage to her must have been a chore for him, she realized. She had spent too much of their short matrimony harping at him, where she should have been a bastion of support. Regret pierced her heart at her folly.

“Forgive me.” She whispered. “I’m so sorry Arthur.”

“Don’t be.” He replied gently. “We were neither of us what we wanted. I’m dying” He shook his head at her alarmed grimace  “I know it, and have made peace with it, so I can say this- we would have loved each other had we been given more time. I believe it.”

“I know.” Catherine agreed, clasping his hand in hers. “I know.”

“I would have been a good King, wouldn’t I have?” Now Arthur’s tone was plaintive, the boy peeking through. Catherine stifled a sob, kissing his hand.

“You would have been.” It was a sweet lie, she thought, the least she could do for the husband she had wronged. Or perhaps it was not a lie at all. What did Catherine know?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to…you know…”

“Hush Arthur.” Catherine soothed. “Do not worry about these things now. Rest.” Exhaling slowly, he obeyed, slipping into a light sleep.

Making her way out, Catherine ran into Maggie Pole. From the redness in her eyes, Catherine understood.

“He does not have long.” Maggie’s voice was shaky. Impulsively, Catherine hugged her. Maggie stiffened, then melted into her arms.

“Poor Arthur!” She wept. “Poor, poor Arthur!”

And Catherine wept with her, for the dream that had unraveled in this life as well. And for the foolish woman, she had been.

\--

 Arthur Tudor’s funeral was a grand affair, almost as grand as his wedding had been. Maggie Pole was inconsolable, and Henry the VII was near broken.

Harry stood at the door of the church, watching Catherine enter on a mule. He helped her down, watching her grief-stricken features. Turning, he faced the throng that pressed around them.

“They grieve for you as well as for Arthur.” He told her quietly. “I thought they could not love you more, but you proved me wrong.”

“They didn’t know him,” Catherine answered, voice rough from crying. “I didn’t know him either.” She admitted. Harry kissed her fingers tenderly, then walked with her towards the entrance.

“May I escort you?” He asked gently. Catherine nodded, dazed. They walked into the church, and Harry stood to the side as the funeral proceeded. When the women wailed, he glanced at Catherine. Her eyes were far away, the corner of her lips turned down. By the other Eustance Chapuys stood solemn, and Harry narrowed his eyes at his mien.

Something was wrong with the timing of the Ambassador’s arrival. He wondered if the Spanish monarchs had been aware of just how sick Arthur was before they sent the man.

“Your Gr – Your Highness.” Cromwell’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I have the documents you wanted.”

“Not now, man.” Harry hissed, avoiding his grandmother’s glare. “Do you not understand time and place?”

“Apologies, my Prince,” Cromwell replied. “I sought only to follow your orders about letting you know as soon as my correspondence was answered.”

“Tell me later,” Harry ordered. “For now, let me mourn.”

  
And he would mourn. He would mourn for the sweet brother he remembered from childhood, for the brother who had slipped him, sweets, at feasts. For the brother that had remembered his favorite foods and made sure the cook made them when he was sick.

Tears fell from his eyes. The dam keeping his grief at bay burst. Harry bowed his head and cried.

A tribute to the brother he had loved. And in regret for his actions towards his brother’s wife.

But even as he wept, Harry knew that nothing would keep him from Catherine. The pull between them was too strong.

In the church, in front of his brother’s coffin, the tears he shed were very final. 

\--

The air of despair around the King was hard to ignore. It was like being encased in a tomb, and Catherine strained to breathe. To be in court was to wade through a miasma. The very air felt thick and lifeless.

 _Wouldn’t it be better to rest?_ Her mind suggested. _To stop breathing? To stop existing? Perhaps that would stop the ever-present guilt that flows through me._

Catherine was tired. She was lonely. Lina was far away from her. Rosa was a confidant, but not as Lina was. Maggie Pole was wrapped in her grief. And Catherine would not allow herself to lean on Harry. It felt like spitting on Arthur’s grave.

_I dishonored him in life. I cannot dishonor him in death. I must prevail upon Chapuys to take me back to Spain._

Her head spun, nausea spiking. Catherine convulsed, moving to the stairways and heaving out her breakfast.

“Highness!” Lina rushed after her.

“Its grief.” Catherine rasped. “Grief.”

Lina narrowed her eyes, fear widening them a moment later. “Highness.” She whispered. “When was the last time you bled?”

Catherine stared at her, confused. Then the import of Lina’s suggestion hit her full force. Suddenly, the timing of her symptoms raced through her mind. Remembering her previous pregnancies, Catherine felt the blood drain from her face.

“You dismissed me from some of my duties.” Lina’s voice seemed to be coming from a great distance. “I had thought that you were still tracking…”

“Rosa forgot.” Catherine’s voice was distant. “Rosa…I…”

She could feel herself tipping backward. Lina’s alarmed shout rang through Catherine’s ears as she slumped downwards. The last thing she felt was strong arms catching her. The last thing Catherine saw was Harry’s concerned face peering down at her.

 _Lord no._ Was her final thought as she succumbed to darkness. _Oh please no._

But when the physician announced her pregnancy, and Margaret Beaufort’s face blanched in the realization of her sin, Catherine knew that the time for reckoning had come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the comments! Please, constructive criticism only! Also, Protestantism and Catholicism will not be accurately portrayed, but this is a fic in which Catherine of Aragon slept with Arthur Tudor and lied until she died so historical accuracy...


	13. Turn, turn, and turn oncemore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wheels turn as plans begin to come to fruition. Harry starts on his path to become Henry VIII

“And so, you see, as the Prince is dead, Queen Isabel asks for the safe return of her daughter, along with her widow’s jointure.” Chapuys ended reading the letter with a flourish, bowing.

Harry wanted to laugh at the look of relief on his grandmother and father’s faces. Since the physician had confirmed Catherine’s pregnancy, Margaret Beaufort had raged, while his father had sat around hapless. Neither knew what next steps to take as it was obvious Arthur could not have been the father. At the same time, they could not allow a cuckold to assume the throne. For the past few days, Harry had realized that Catherine’s life was in danger and had his household protecting her. And now Chapuys had, theoretically, solved the problem.

When Catherine was out of England, his grandmother would proclaim her a harlot, and let it be known that her child was not Arthur’s. If the child did not perish on the journey, Queen Isabel would clap her daughter to a nunnery. Would Spain send an army to England for their princess’s honor? Harry did not think so. It was well known that Queen Isabel was getting sicker and sicker, and her husband was handling many of the court matters. And Ferdinand was not as sentimental regarding their daughters as the Queen.

Harry knew his grandmother, and he could see the thoughts racing through her head. Before she said anything, he chimed in.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” His voice was kind. “We have not announced this, but the Princess is pregnant. So she cannot travel to Spain.”

Harry wanted to laugh at the thunderstruck look at Chapuy’s face. His grandmother and father’s expressions were also funny.

“She’s – I mean…that…forgive me, Your Highness, but did you just say her Highness is with child?”

“Catherine is pregnant,” Harry confirmed. “You may speak with my physician if you will. I have him with her at all times.”

“How…kind.” Margaret Beaufort’s expression was growing increasingly pinched. “I wondered where the man went.”

“He goes where I command Lady Grandmother.”

“I must…I must speak with Cath…I mean, I must write to the Queen.” Chapuy’s bowed again, wandering out dazed. Harry burst out laughing as the door closed, chortling as his grandmother and father whirled towards him.

“What were you thinking?” His father thundered, coughing interrupting his tirade. Harry waited patiently for the cough to finish, wondering if it was the same affliction that had bought down Arthur. 

“Henry be calm.” Margaret Beaufort scowled at her grandson. “What has gotten into you?” 

“Lady Grandmother, how could you let such a prize go to waste?”

“Don’t be absurd. She cuckolds your brother and you ensured she would stay in England!”

“Lady Grandmother…”

“I want her out of England! She will not bring her bastard stain on the throne!”

“Lady Grandmother!” Harry snapped, causing her and his father to widen their eyes. Harry took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“The child has Tudor blood.” He said bluntly. Margaret furrowed her brow confused, but Henry understood his meaning immediately.    
“You – she was your brother’s wife!” He sputtered. Margaret gasped at the realization. Harry stood firm, frowning at his father.

“Arthur was unable to perform his duty –“

“What and you stepped in like a good brother?!”

“Henry, don’t! The harlot seduced him!”

“Mother, how can you…?”

Harry raised his voice. “Arthur asked me to!” He smoothly lied. “He thought that while he could not perform his duty, a child of Tudor blood needed to sit on the throne.”

“That is a lie.” His father declared through hesitancy made its way into his voice. “No man would become a cuckold willingly.”

“Arthur was as steadfast in his duty as you are Father.” Harry declared. “And you know I have no interest in the throne. So did he. He knew I hadn’t been trained for it.” That part was said with hidden bitterness. “He begged me, Father. Neither of us knew he would have so little time…”

“Harry you don’t have to lie for the Spanish tart.” Margaret pleaded. “She entranced you and now expects you to speak falsely.”

“Do you think my intellect is so below yours?” Harry asked sharply. “Lady grandmother, Catherine did not seduce me. We both entered the covenant knowing we were attempting a higher calling. I know the child she carries is mine.”

“Enough.” Henry declared, coughing again. Harry frowned in concern as Margaret headed towards her son. Henry gasped for breath before continuing. “We will announce it to court now that you have so heedlessly told the Spanish Ambassador the news. No one will know that the child isn’t Arthurs. Now get out of my sight.” Harry bowed, kissing his grandmother’s hand as he left. 

Henry coughed again, blood dotting the handkerchief he had pressed to his mouth. “Would that I had another heir.” He rasped. “Rather than that fool boy. What has he done?”

“Let us pray it’s a girl.” Margaret murmured.

_ Or I shall have to once more stain my soul with the blood of innocents. _

_ Oh Lord let it die in the womb. _

 

\--

“You are a prisoner.” Lina declared grimly, looking at the stern faces of the guards outside. Catherine smiled mirthlessly.

“Well, what did you expect? Margaret knew that Arthur was impotent. It took her not a moment to realize the child wasn’t his.”

“Why didn’t you tell the truth?”   
“What, that I had an affair with my brother in law? Lina, be sensible. I’m already a whore, must I bring Harry down as well?”

“He was a willing participant in the affair.”

“I know.” Catherine cradled her womb. It wasn’t showing, but it swelled her heart just the same. It would be a girl, she knew. She knew the signs of girls versus boys. Perhaps she would even call her Mary, after her darling pearl. “I know the fault is also his. But what will it accomplish? I’m sure Chapuys will take me back to Spain. I think perhaps during the voyage I can prevail upon him to…”

“What? Drop you off in the middle of the ocean? Highness, what will your mother say? Your father? If you do not press your child’s claim they will know that it is not Arthur’s.”   
“I know.” Catherine’s voice was soft, both hands on her womb. “I know Lina. I did not plan to get pregnant. I know not the path I can take.”

_ But no one will take you from me.  _ She told the tiny life growing within.  _ Grow strong and live, and I will find a way to be together with you. _

No one would tear her babe from her arms this time around. Catherine would die before she allowed the separation.

“His Highness, the Prince of Wales.” A solider announced as Harry strode confidently into the room. Catherine blinked, discomfited at the change in title. Harry waved the solider to go outside and drew close to Catherine. She felt her heart race as his breath fell on her and exhaled softly as he kissed her. The first kiss was soft, almost chaste, but Catherine could feel Harry’s longing. The second was more heated, and she pushed him away.

“One day you will welcome me without reservations and protests.” He sighed before falling into the chair. He motioned for Lina to pour him wine, and drew closer to the table, running a hand through his hair. 

“Am I to leave then? Or is it a nunnery?” Catherine asked, frustrated by his silence. Harry frowned at her in response. 

“Why would you leave?”

She scoffed. “Your grandmother would have me torn apart by horses if I don’t. She knows Harry, that I was unfaithful to Arthur.”

“Ah, but she didn’t know with who. I have seen fit to enlighten her. I also told Ambassador Chapuys of your good news.”

Catherine’s breath escaped. She swayed and both Lina and Harry jumped to help her into a chair. 

“Careful.” The way he commanded it, Catherine thought he sounded halfway to be a King.

  “You told her?” She gasped out. “Are you mad?”

“At least it will give her pause,” Harry replied. “And why should I listen to her calling you a harlot when you have only known my touch? I intend to marry you, Catherine. It will be easier if grandmother knows your child is mine.”

“Do you live in the dreams you weave?” Catherine asked, frustrated. “Harry, it is forbidden by Leviticus to marry your brother’s widow. And now that I am pregnant all of England knows that I am no maid.”

“Deuteronomy says that if a man dies it is his brother’s duty to wed his wife. The status of her virginity is not discussed in that passage.”

Catherine rubbed a hand to her forehead. Harry watched her, Lina standing by the side. “The pope will never grant a dispensation.”

“Let me worry about that.” He caught her fingers in his, bringing them up to his mouth and kissing the tips. “You take care of our child.”

Harry made to get up, but Catherine tightened her fingers. “You weren’t shocked when the physician pronounced my pregnancy.”

He signed, looking at her. 

“Tell me the truth, Harry. Whatever we are, whatever we will be, do not lie to me.”

_ Lies poison all they touch. If you lie, we will never be happy. Please don’t.  _

“Charles overheard my grandmother and father. He told me how Arthur was the impotent one. That you were likely fertile.”

“That is why you asked me if I was sure if I was barren. You knew then I was likely not. You benefited from my ignorance.” Catherine’s voice was tight with rage. 

“You knew I would leave no stone unturned to have you,” Harry replied simply. “Did you not expect me to take advantage? After that shouting match about going past the limits of love? A notion I intend to adhere to, by the way.”

Catherine hesitated. Was that a threat? An offering? Both?

“When did you decide on your course?”    
Harry shrugged. “The moment I realized you were fertile. Before that, I would have been content to stay in the shadows with you. Either way, I wouldn’t have stopped pursuing you, Catherine. It simply wasn’t possible once I saw you. Even before I saw you. The moment you ensnared me with your mind.”

Dangerous. Terse. Catherine strangled the whimper in her throat, as Harry tilted her chin up, fingers delicately touching the skin of her throat. 

“How very foolish of you.” She forced out. Catherine wanted to sound dispassionate but ended up sounding breathless instead. Harry smiled against her lips.

“You strip me of my reason.” He breathed. The next moment he kissed her. Static hummed through Catherine’s veins, but being in Harry’s arms was not a noose, nor a cage. It was freedom, madness, the rush of euphoria in her veins.

“I won’t forgive you for this,” Catherine whispered; eyes still closed. She felt, rather than heard the laugh that rumbled through Harry’s chest. 

“Good.” He replied. “I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

\--

“I do not know what the Reina will do.” Oviedo’s voice was frustrated. But his hands-on Lina was gentle. They lay on the grass, contemplating what the future would hold.

“What can she do?” Lina’s voice was a matter of fact. “Catherine is pregnant. The Reina will know it was not from her husband. She cannot bring our Infanta back.”

“Isabel is growing sicker and sicker,” Oviedo said, brushing a hand down Lina’s back. “When Juana ascends the throne, Catherine will find no ally in her.”

“Harry is the only one who can save her,” Lina affirmed. “Margaret Beaufort…that woman will be after the Infanta’s life.”

“I have been put in charge of security by the Prince. He is taking her safety very seriously.”

“He should. Prince Harry is the reason the Infanta is in the dire straits she is in.”

“She was also a willing participant Lina. Both before and after she found out there was a chance she could get pregnant.”

Lina pushed Oviedo away, glaring as she sat up. “And what about him? He pursued her. If he had not…”

“She would be on the way to Spain right now, becoming the wife of an old Christina King. Or even a converted Moslem. Woman, I do not like where she is now either. But let us not fool ourselves that things would have been better had she still been a maid.”

“She would not have to worry about her life!”

“That hothead is far smarter than anyone gives him credit for,” Oveido said. “He has been pulling all our strings over the past few months. I think his grandmother has met her match.”

“And what of Catherine?” Lina’s voice was plaintive. “Will he abandon her once she gives birth?”

“No, I do not think so.” Oviedo sighed, pulling them back down. “He…he does love her Lina. And he is constant. I think he has wanted her since before she came to England. Now that he has her, Prince Harry won’t let her go.”

“So Catherine is what? A fish in his net?”

“Lina, she does not seem to be trying hard to escape.”

Lina sighed, pressing her ear against Oviedo’s chest.

“It’s almost as if she is finding security in his insanity.” She grumbled. “I do not understand her anymore.”

“What do we know of the minds of Princesses and Princes alike?” Oviedo laughed. “We must simply survive them.”

“Aye,” Lina whispered. “That is what we must all do. Prince and pauper alike.”

_ We must all strive to survive.  _

 

\--

“Lady Grandmother, I do wish you would stop being so obstinate about this.”

“Harry see sense.” Margaret did not plead, though she came close to doing so. “Do you think that a young man, the prize of Europe, can marry his brother’s widow? It's obscene! It’s a sin!”

“If you quote Leviticus at me again, you know I have Deuteronomy ready.”  

“Deuteronomy applies only if there is no child from your brother!”

“It isn’t his child!” Harry snapped lowering his voice. “You and I both know the child is mine, Lady Grandmother.”

“The rest of England does not. The court does not, Thank the Lord. It is against the Church’s teachings.”

“It is against what the Pope decrees you mean. Unless, of course, we ask politely. And continue to provide the money the require to dress up Rome.” Harry’s voice was cruel. “Perhaps, Lady Grandmother, you should wonder less as to the sin of marrying Catherine and more onto the sin of besmirching the reputation of a good woman.”

“She seduced you,” Margaret replied with gritted teeth. “That Spanish whore…”

“Enough! If anything, I seduced her.” Harry tossed his head, taking a deep breath and speaking calmly. “You should concern yourself with Father’s health, Lady Grandmother, and less with myself.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gone for a while! Sorry everyone- I got sucked into another fandom. But I'm aiming to finish this within the week- the virus has made me work from home so I have a little more time now to churn stuff out!


	14. Love among the ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show goes on, but the reality behind the currents is becoming more and more apparent

“The Princess’s pregnancy has not been greeted with joy,” Anne told Henry Percy as they sat in the garden. She still thrilled at feeling her hand in his. Thought her liaison with Prince Harry had been electrifying, there was bone-deep happiness at the steady love Henry Percy provided. Anne had no doubt that being with Prince Harry would have been exhilarating, but his moods were capricious, and she could not forget how quickly he had turned around and forgotten her. It was as if he had been using her for a greater goal, and she chaffed at the feeling of being a toy in his hands. 

Anne’s father had not been happy at her failure, but once Prince Harry had made clear her knew of her past with Henry Percy, even Thomas Boleyn could see the futility of pushing either his daughters at the Prince. Now both Anne and Mary were unencumbered and breathed a little freer after the stifling of their father’s ambitions. And with Henry Percy becoming closer to the new Prince of Wales, her father’s desires were taken a different path.

“You are right, my love.” He agreed, playing with her fingers. “Our Lady the King’s mother walks around with a frown on her face, and the King looks dazed all the. Prince Harry’s mood, on the other hand, is rather jubilant, which is strange for if the Princess’s child is a boy, his claim is null.”

“Perhaps,” Anne said slowly. “But perhaps not. Remember Richard III? Or Henry the IV? England has little appetite for child kings. There will be few who will fight to put an infant on the throne. Especially as his rival is a grown man with a proven military record.”

“Perchance that is why he is seeking favor with so many nobles and working to appease the commons. It might be the prelude for a power grab.”

“It could be.” Anne considered the option. “It is obvious the King is ill. And that he is losing the battle. You should ensure that you are in the Prince’s graces at this time. Work with him to sway those who falter.”

Henry Percy kissed her hand fervently. “I thank God you are in my arms again.” He said. “For without you, I was a lost lamb, Anne.”

“I missed you too.” She replied softly. “I am glad you are in my life again Henry.”

_ For you have given me power over you. _

_ And I never give my power away. _

\--

“The child is strong.” Catherine caressed her swollen belly. A flutter was her reward and she couldn’t help but laugh in happiness.

“They are, Your Grace.” Lina agreed, softly, standing by the side. A fresh platter of fruit was on the table in front of them, and Catherine took a grape, moaning at the burst of flavor.

“When I am King I shall forbid you to make that sound anywhere but the bedchamber.” Harry’s amused voice broke the moment. Lina whirled, then curtseyed. Catherine rolled her eyes.

“A man who keeps proclaiming that he is King is no King.” The rejoinder was swift. Harry’s eyes flashed in response.

“Are you saying that I should speak less and do more?”

“You may think what you like.” Catherine shrugged. “My thoughts were an echo of something my father had once said.”

“Ah, Ferdinand. You speak so often of your mother I thought you held no fondness for your father.”

“I spent more time with her,” Catherine replied coolly. “But I love and honor my father.”

Harry titled his head. “Both of them are bastions of the Catholic faith.” His voice took on a questioning quality. “But neither of them is young. I wonder what the future will hold for Spain.”

“You should focus on England,” Catherine said, plucking another grape and offering it to Harry. He leaned forward, taking it from her hand, nipping the fingers playfully.  Lina rolled her eyes and Catherine flicked Harry’s face away.

“Have some shame.” She scolded.

“My love, I don’t believe in hiding who we are.”

“Behind closed doors.”

“For now.” 

Catherine scoffed. “I do not think your father or grandmother will be so happy for you to parade your brother’s widow in court.”

Harry sneered. “Catherine, I truly don’t know why you don’t believe me. Do I strike you as a man who lets others dictate his wants and desires?”

_ I know no one can stop you when you set your mind to it.  _ Catherine acknowledged. 

“Harry, I just think…”

“Don’t.” Harry snapped. “Don’t start again with your uncertainty and fear! It’s tiring and I’m in no mood for it.” He stood up, putting a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from standing. “You should take care of yourself better,” Harry muttered, then sighed. “You drive me to distraction, Catherine. Do not fill my ears with your fears. You are not a woman like others. Where is the courage of your mother?”

“Courage is easy to find when your cause is righteous.” Catherine retorted. “Do not doubt my resolve, Harry. I do not lack courage. What I lack the certainty that we are right.”

Harry shrugged, then kissed her swiftly. Before he exited the room, he turned. “We don’t need certainty.” He informed her. “We are the best prince and princess in Christendom. Our will is the will of the Lord.”

Catherine felt cold. That moral certitude had only taken Harry at a later age in their first life. She did not know why she was seeing glimpses of it now.

“The lion knows its strength,” Lina whispered behind her. “And it will not consent to be tamed.”

Catherine shuddered. “Yes, Lina.” She breathed. “We have to be very careful now.”

 

\--

“Lady Grandmother, I don’t know why you keep bothering to speak with me about this.” Harry sighed as he tossed the ball aside. 

“It is a sin!”

“The Bible contradicts itself,” Harry noted. “I believe that God gives us room to interpret in cases like ours.”

“What case?! She is your brother’s widow!”

“He never touched her!” Harry snapped back. “I was the only one Catherine has lain with!”

“So she cuckolded your brother! You want to make that woman your wife!”

“We had Arthur’s permission.”

“Oh stop lying.”

Harry pressed his lips together. “Lady Grandmother, you should care more for Father’s health and less for my welfare. He isn’t feeling well and needs your attention.”

Margaret sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Harry…”

“I am paying more attention to the realm. I’ve made friends with commoners and nobles alike. Wolsey and More are my compatriots in the arts and the trappings of the ruling. Leave me in their care and focus on Father.”

“You must marry someone else.”

“Lady Grandmother.” Harry’s voice was final. “I choose who I marry. No one will tell me I cannot marry. Not you. Not Father. And not the Pope.”

\--

“What happened?!” Harry burst into the room. Catherine lay in the bed, pale but composed. Lina stood by her side and Oviedo was standing by the door. The physician was at the foot of the bed.

“Its all right,” Catherine said. Harry came next to her and touched her hand briefly. She shook it away, darting a glance at the physician. 

“What was the matter?” Harry turned to the man, the scowl causing the physician to step back.

“Only a bit of spotting.” He stammered. 

“A bit?!”

“It does happen Your Highness. The Princess must take care and not exert herself too much now.”

“Thank you, Physician,” Catherine interjected, as it looked like Harry was about to strike the man. “I will make sure that I am more careful now.”

The man bowed and scurried away. Harry sighed and carefully settled on the coverlet. 

“You must be more covert.” Catherine chided, fingers settling into his hair, stroking it carefully. Harry snuggled up to her, placing his head beside her stomach.

“I’m tired of hiding in the shadows. Our love is the sun and will illuminate the court the same way the sun illuminates the gardens around the palace.” 

“You are the sun.” Catherine agreed. “But if you shower me with too much affection, I shall become Icarus and fall.”

“Don’t say such things.” Harry sat up, holding her hand. “I would never hurt you, Catherine.”

_ Oh, you beautiful golden liar.  _ She thought wryly. 

“Please be more careful.” Was all she said in reply, settling herself onto his shoulder. 

“You as well.” Harry breathed back, tucking her in closer.

But the rumors had already started. And like fire, they would spread.

And like fire in a forest, something new would grow in their wake. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try to churn out a few chapters, but I'm going to be going on vacation so there will be a stop gap of a month.


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